An Array of Reasons
by ForeverUnknownOooooh
Summary: 'Sex. Great. Now I've got your attention, I can go on.' Liberal college student Esme Platt is only just coming to terms with the instabilities of life. Along with her flatmates Saintly Carlisle Cullen, 25, and young Edward Masen, she offers an entertaining perspective on her life and how the unexpected is usually best.AH/AU RatedM for later chapters. Some dark themes. Canon-couples
1. Introductions ft The Yoga Class

_**Hi!  
**_

 _ **Welcome to ' An Array of Reasons'**_

 _ **Unfortunately the 'blurb' is only so many characters so I'd deem it best if I gave you a more detailed summary as follows:**_

 **Esme Platt is a young, fliratious 23 year old art student slowly learning that the assumptions she's made of people, friends and others alike, are not necessarily true to life. As well as struggling with the concept of set career plans at a time when she's trying to fight the ideals and realities of womanhood, her funny and cynical take on life stands corrected when a distant friendship takes an unexpected route. While her young and jovial friends, all blossom into set plans and dreams for their life with their own perks and problems, what happens when a drunken breaking of boundaries leads to the unexpected and further yet, how will it affect the group dynamic? How many acts of justification will it take for her to realise she's only human and that her mistakes don't define her as a bad one.**

 **Funny and lighthearted in most areas while dark and thoughtful at others. All human with the usual canon couples eager to make their presence in the tale known! Haha.  
**

 _ **I really hope this is an entertaining story which leaves you wanting more!**_

 _ **If you would be so kind as to review with your opinions, thoughts and reactions, I will be incredibly grateful!**_

 _ **Thank you!**_

* * *

Sex!

Great. Now I've got your attention, I can go on.

The one thing they like to tell you when you're sat in church or in the biology class with the weird teacher that keeps looking at your thighs or even at home having the awkward talk with your mother; sex is dangerous.

First of all, no.

No, it's not. Use your common sense, wrap your junk unless you like the weird colour that dirty genitals gives you and wrap it even tighter if you have a set career plan. Kids don't market well in job interviews.

What they don't tell you is this:

Sex is _good_.

It's good for your body, it's good for your relationships, it's good for your soul and holy heck is it good for your downstairs. You will never realise how hungry you can be for something you couldn't explain...

Having said that, let me make a few things clear: I'm not a slut. A slut is someone who tells you what you wanna hear, whenever you wanna hear it. I guess you could say I'm liberal and as for my job title…I'm not a prostitute…

Yet.

 _I'm kidding_ …

But seriously, why is it such a bad thing to get paid for something your good at?

Here's another bit of wisdom… use your power in the best ways. People are _slaves_ to their eyes, they see you in something they find desirable and they're pretty much yours for the night and this doesn't just go for the guys. The girls love it too. They never admit it, they act like they're not staring at your tits, well guess what, they _are_.

Everybody is a rebel to privacy.

And another thing, just in case you were reading this and getting a boner thinking of yourself, nothing turns a girl on more than her own body looking at its best.

So here we are. Let's start with a same old typical yoga class. I go, I do the same old thing, _again._ I power through, perfect my stance, hold my balance and some newbie in the fronts starts to get the giggles and then so does her friend. So much so that they fall over and then they leave the class early to go grab coffee where they plan to never return.

I should be nice and give them the benefit of the doubt but I've seen so many pathetic teenagers claiming that they want to 'be healthy' that these two are pretty much my last straw. I wanna help them out.

'Don't do it.' I warn, standing behind them in the coffee line.

The girl with the long brown hair in a ponytail wet from sweat is eyeing the cake. She's a nice size, pretty gorgeous too, but if you're joining an exercise class, it's for a reason and judging by her blush and her look of discomfort, she _aint_ joining for fun.

'Huh?' She asks, a little confused.

I try to remind myself I'm also sweaty as hell right now and have been doing these classes a lot longer than they have but I can't stand it when people quit without giving it their best effort.

'Don't buy the cake. Because you'll eat it and then you'll feel guilty and you'll go home and look in the mirror and pout because it's _too late,_ you've already scoffed yourself silly. So you'll never go back to yoga and then you'll do the same thing come January 1st, doing it over and over again until all you ever feel about yourself is _shit_!'

Bit over the top judging by the way her blonde friend glares at me: like she's going to hit me but doesn't because she knows I'm right.

'It's only a bit of cake, what does it matter?' she complains, growling a little but only in a minuscule matter. She's hiding behind her taller more attractive looking friend…if you'd call them friends?

'I'm not saying don't eat the cake…' I explain.

Man, does this girl not understand metaphors?!

'Fooled me' Blondie retorts.

'I'm _saying_ don't quit the class.'

The doe-like girl smiles awkwardly at me, relief flooding up pink cheeks. Almost like she doesn't enjoy being told off but she's understanding that I'm a fucking genius when it comes to knowing people. Man, Edward don't know shit.

'Oh. Well, I just thought I'd try it out…I'm not really good at sports…' she starts, her voice growing quiet and asking for a tea though you can see in her eyes she wanted the sugary filth that was the coffee.

I'm not going to tell her that the moment she leaves this place, I'll be heading to the supermarket to buy a heck of a lot of cake and gorging on it myself.

'That's why you joined a yoga class…' I tell her. Is yoga even classed as sports?

She blushes and her friend takes the lead, rescuing her before she has the chance to grow some balls and answer me herself.

'Can we _help_ you?!' Now her voice is as icy as her hair colour.

'No, help yourselves. Come back next week and you'll thank me.'

'I don't-' P.s her excuses are bollocks.

'Esme…' I say, holding my hand out to her, this seems to distract her thought process.

She smiles shyly at me, grasping my hand with her left and using her right to zip up her jacket to shield from the cold which helps me a lot because her nipples were distracting as hell. Jeez, woman, wear a bloody sports bra.

'Bella.' She says softly. 'This is Rose, she's my friend's girlfriend…'

Me and 'Rose' watch her oddly. It was a weird justification as to hanging out with someone to a stranger.

'Here, let me buy your drinks.' I offer.

Rose is testing me, she deliberately orders some overpriced diabetes inducing shit and watches gleefully as I pay the contents of a mortgage for it.

'That's really kind.' Bella says, warming to me now. She takes a seat by the window, opposite me. Rose sits next to her like a body guard. I don't flinch.

'Have you been doing it for long?' She asks, hopeful now. I smile a little softer. Or try to, your face can only do so much…

'Yeah, it takes practice but it makes you feel good.' I feel like I should look at Blondie when I say for all the vain reasons, instead I keep my mouth shut.

'We just thought we'd give it a go, see what it's like…' She's not the chatty type, but she seems to like having the conversation between us.

'The first session is balls. It gets better over time.'

By the fourth you'll be looking in the mirror trying to convince yourself you see the outline of Beyoncé's ass in your own… I decide not to tell her that either. She doesn't seem like the type to get my reference.

She trusts my words. Maybe because I'm acceptably plumpy in all the right areas and thinner in others.

'Newbies?' I say after she's taking a guilty sip of her tea. I know what she's thinking. She thinking that even tea is fattening and she should have chosen water. Even water has got calories, gurl.

'We are! Just started our first term, you?'

I laugh, I don't know why, I just find them funny, maybe because their enthusiasm for life will shortly die and they'll be left being cynical little bitches like _moi_.

'First year technically, but it's my second degree….'

The new financial year hit a lot of people hard, she's wondering how I can afford it. I don't tell her that I worked consistently day and night through my teens and my summers and at the moment hold up a string of three-part time jobs.

'Experienced then?' She says laughing.

'Pretty much….' I answer honestly. In all areas…

'Bella, we should be going…' Pipes up her off-putting fiend…I mean friend. Ahh whatever, Blondie with the ball bag expression. She pretends to look at her phone though it says nothing on it. She thinks I can't see because I'm looking at my cup. But my eyesight is hella good.

Bella nods awkwardly (she does everything awkwardly, she's not even comfortable breathing) and stands up to leave, thanking me for the drink.

'See you next week!' I say, not even polite enough to be hopeful.

I _tell_ her, she _will_ see me next week; I've brought her coffee she is in my debt. Ha, I win. I have to remind myself it's somewhat uncool to self-five yourself in public.

'Urm…yeah! See you next week.' She agrees

Bella leaves with Barbie so that you hear the old age bell on the shop door ring. Then I shamelessly return to the cashier to purchase the cake.

* * *

I park my car on the drive next to Edward's flashy new one. Unlike some people, I actually had to work to go to college and though my shitty little hippy car looks fuck all next to his smart Volvo, I still act like they're equals.

They've cooked. I know they've cooked because the living room is spotless meaning the kitchen is not. As expected it looks like a bomb has gone off; plates everywhere, different types of food, half eaten, half spread across the walls.

I push my sunnies into my hair to glare at the masterful piece of art. If I took a photo, I might get a good grade in my coursework piece about modern life; I'd call it 'Fuck my flatmates.'

Letting my hands grab whatever crockery is closest, I dance up the stairs cheerily letting my trainers skip lightly across the carpet. I throw back the door to where they're all sitting there.

Carlisle is on the bed, nose in a book while scribbling with his right hand, he doesn't even know he's doing it but he is. Edward has his depressing symphony on, but playing some god-awful shooting game with Emmett who is miraculously beating him. I throw the dishes to the floor to announce my entrance.

'Sort yourrrr Shiiiite!' I sing, grinning sarcastically.

Carlisle turns to face me, looking both apologetic and innocent. He doesn't know what he's about to apologise for but we both know he's going to do it. Edward rolls his eyes to Emmett who is making the situation worse by belittling my anger.

'How was yoga?' Emmet asks, smirking before the Saint speaks up, I'm thinking that I should appreciate the fact he's staring at my ass in the tight sweats but for now, it only winds me up more.

I say Saint because he's pearly white with blonde locks and blue eyes and as shy as a fucking rake. We've been good friends since our first year and he barely says two words to me on most days, stays out my way and does little to piss me off except exert his innocent little attitude. Man wouldn't know what to do with the thing between his legs let alone use it... Nevertheless. He is sweet.

'Ha! Ha-ha. You're _so funny! G_ o back to your little boy games, kid' I say this only to Emmet because Emmett doesn't live here.

I forgot how hard it was to wash the fucking dishes.

'Our deepest apologies, Esme.' Carlisle says, looking at me all guilty like.

He's so genuine he sounds sarcastic.

'Well you _obviously_ didn't do it, did you?!' I'm glaring into the back of Edward's skull, trying to stop myself picking up the plate and breaking it over his fucking hair. Man, I hate freshman!

Carlisle looks even sorrier.

'I'll do it later.' Edward says in a typical teenage fashion.

'Why? Is daddy going to pay for a maid?' I flutter my eyes pretending to be all excited before getting angry _angry._ 'Because you're lazy as hell and I'm not touching your shit!'

'I honestly don't mind-'

I feel my eyes roll, why did he have to be such a peace keeper?!

'You don't touch it either!' Fucking St Peter over there being such a wimp. It's ridiculous I have to tell him that. He should know me enough that it gets on my tits when he lets Edward get away with everything. He's not his fucking care-taker.

'No, I'll do it.' Edward says, hiding his laugh. 'I'll do it tonight, I promise.'

'Do it now, dickhead!' I yell before storming out of his skanky boy's room and into my bedroom. I push a playlist button on my phone and hear some popular song blurt out of the speakers on my desk. I let it play, blocking out the noises of their dumb shooting game before claiming the shared shower.

Half the shampoo is gone.

Now I'm seething.

As a girl who works and likes to party quite a bit, I'm partial to luxuries money takes place in the most soft, shiny looking natural waves I could ask for, all down to one tiny bottle of lotion costing a good day's pay.

I find myself stomping back in there again. The plates I threw are still on the floor, leaking food onto the carpets and they haven't even turned to notice.

'And buy your own shampoo!' I add, slamming the door again, not really for any purpose but to feel dramatic.

A few hours later, I've calmed down and the reason I've calmed down is because Carlisle is helping me dry up. He's cleaned the floor too and wiped all the sides down though I know if I pull him up on it, he'll play the fool.

'You going to the fresher's parties this week?' I don't know why I ask, he gives me the same answer every year.

'Nah, I've got studying to do…'

I roll my eyes deliberately.

'Take a night off.'

Okay, so, I have this habit of telling people commands rather than asking them.

'I really shouldn't…' he says with a grimace.

'Well just go to this one then?' I suggest. 'It's a pub crawl…' Again the words are pointless. He doesn't realise the difference between a pub crawl and a whore house but just looking at him I know he's more pub-err than a clubber and most definitely not a whore-er.

He grimaces again. I don't normally ask to hang out, we're not that kind of flatmates, not really friendly enough to go out together a lot but friendly enough that I occasionally share his bed, mainly because I'm hiding from whoever I let stay in mine.

'What pub?' He's trying to be polite by making conversation. He hasn't got a clue which pub is which.

'Just the local one first. If you don't like it you can always leave?' It's weird I have to tell him this.

'Well, maybe I'll come to the first one.' He says smiling. I feel like telling him 'Atta boy' and 'good job'. I just grin successfully.

'So, who's going?'

I'm _glad_ he asks me this because now I have to pretend like it's fully organised when really all it takes is for me to say 'night out?' to get the unanimous reply of 'I'm in'.

'The usual.' I say casually, shrugging my shoulders a little. 'Alice, Emmett, Edward.'

I'm still pissed at him about the dishes but I enjoy going out with the guy, he's clever and quite fun to talk to when he's not feeling sorry for himself.

'Oh and Alice's boyfriend.'

This has him smiling. He knows Jasper well and gets on with him. They are both the insufferable learner types of people.

'Do I have to get dressed up?' He asks, putting the plates on the higher shelf so that he exposes the White t-shirt underneath his ironed one, it's as pearly white as his teeth.

'You don't have to…' I say, but what I should be saying is ' _You_ don't have to'. Out of all of us, he's more likely to dress smartly for his usual set up. The bloke doesn't even know what jeans are.

He nods a little more, before returning to the bat cave to cram a few more hours of studying in. I turn to the TV for a few hours and wait for Alice to turn up but like usual, she's late.


	2. Reasons why I shouldn't drink

_**Thanks for all the feedback, I'm hoping people enjoy this chapter more!**_

* * *

It's hours before Alice finally turns up, puppy-dog boyfiend in toe looking both lost and shy at the same time. But he gets the routine and with an awkward acknowledgment from me to him, he clambers upstairs to join in with the boy-hood game like a child. She takes the initative and after a brief run down on why she hates the people she works with, we're in my room and I'm throwing clothes onto my person.

'We need to stop at the pharmacy before we head out.' I say, hitching up the tights over my waist. I already regret them, I need to pee already. The shake of her head is an agreement that they were a bad idea, so I pull them off again.

'Why?' She asks, frowning with a delicately arched eyebrow.

'Why do you think?! I've running out.'

I still had a few Johnny's left but you never know how much fun you were going to end up having with someone… Though in my experience, it had never been as fun as I hoped.

'Already?!' She asks amazed. It's would almost be rude if it wasn't Alice.

'Yes _already_. Now do I wear underwear with the dress or not?'

She sighs unsure. She's not her chirpy self; she's tired and wants to go hang with her boyfriend. It's offensive she doesn't take interest in my wardrobe at the moment.

'Earth to Alice?!'

She's blinks and shakes her head before changing her mind and speaking up. Within seconds she changes her choice again then just looks at me blankly.

'If you can't answer me I'm just going to go find someone else?'

She calls my bluff and decides she can't answer me and as it would be impolite to flash her boyfriend, I walk into Carlisle's room. He's still studying in the lamp light, eyes to the medical text book in front and almost jumps out of his skin when my cough alerts my entrance.

'Underwear or no underwear?' I ask, turning around to show of the curves of the little black dress. He's stunned and doesn't say anything for a few seconds before the confused;

'What?'

'Underwear…?' I enuciate patronisingly, turning around again before reaching up my skirt and throwing them off and doing the same action.

'Or _no_ underwear?' It's hard _not_ to patronise the guy, his lack of libido _makes_ it patronising.

If I thought he was stunned beforehand, I was clearly mistaken. He looks like he's going to fall off his chair. I turn again, looking at my ass to see with curiosity what has got him all in a tongue tie. There's no pantyline, just the faint outline of cheeks.

'Are you getting laid tonight?' The words sound funny coming from his mouth, like he can't bring himself to use the word sex. He knows me well, I think with a grin.

'Probably...' I say, nodding.

'Well then, underwear.' He decides for me, smiling and trying to hide the blush in his cheeks.

Either he's not seen a lot of women naked before or he's not used for someone undressing for his opinion. I've got my dress on, it's not like he's looking at anything rude? Bloody baby...

'Wouldn't it just be easier without it?' I contend, but not wearing underwear sounds like a disaster in itself.

'Well if you're getting naked and the lad sees you're not wearing anything …it might give off the wrong impression...' He says strategically, his voice quiet. He's right. As much as I plan to get laid, I don't need to tell people that. It'll end badly with me _not_ getting laid or regretting the person I laid with.

'But it might also lead them to the sex in the first place?'

He closes his book up, smiles awkwardly and stands to look at me properly, taking in the whole short dress….There's not a lot to take in…

'What you're wearing now will be enough…'

'You think so?' I look down at myself and smile. It's nerd-speak for you look sexy…

He nods quickly, scratching the back of his neck for something to do.

'You're right. ' I agree, holding my handout for my underwear by his foot. The asshole picks it up with the end of his pencil and offers it to me. I snatch them and the wood it's balancing on, thank him for his help and return to Alice.

She's nestled into Jasper's side, watching him play the same game with the boys in Edward's room. I tell them we've got half an hour before we leave. Emmett is the only one who seems enthusiastic about this.

* * *

So at about half 8 we arrive at the usual bar, looking like some weird mismatched band. I'm wearing a leather jacket and sturdy heels, Alice a summer dress and leggings, Carlisle looks like he's going to a wedding and Jasper and Edward are wearing jeans with a t-shirt.

Emmett is the only one who gets me.

We greet the regulars, or at least _I_ do because when I'm low on funds I do the occasional shift…which means I'm technically staff...which means staff discount… so I buy the first round.

'What are we ordering?'

Emmett and I have already decided shots. We're debating over which one, but I can read his mind: fireball.

'I'll just have a water.'

I roll my eyes. 'Oh take a break, Cullen.'

He sighs and offers a smirk. 'Fine, I'll have an apple-juice instead.'

If he's going to be such a baby and have a baby's drink, he can have one. It's cheaper than alcohol anyway. Edward orders a vile beer and Jasper and Alice a cider though Alice's is flavoured.

I clink glasses with Emmett before letting the liquid burn my throat. He's grinning at me, doing the same: smiling just as widely.

Jasper sits down at one of the rounded tables and we all make stunted conversation about classes.

'I worked my ass off and she only gave me a fucking third!'

Ahh, so this is what's got Alice in a twist. I affectionately rub her shoulder.

'It was only a practice though.' I remind her, though the look on her face says she doesn't need reminding.

She's in her second year of fashion design and last year when her grade didn't count she did fantastically…she has a new teacher now though. One of which doesn't quite understand Alice's line of vision. Though not many people did until the finished product...

'She said it was child-like. ' _It didn't make any sense_ '.'

'So? Tell her it's for a child.' Edward says shrugging. Even though he chose a shit drink, he's already on his third meaning he's catching mine and Emmett's buzz pretty quickly.

'It's lingerie.' She mutters angrily. I see Carlisle shudder. Emmett and Jasper are giggling until they realise how pissed off she is about it.

'Besides, the module I chose is adult focused.'

I try to hide my entertainment. Why she wanted to put bears and bunnies on an adult bra is beyond me but usually her creations turn out to be pretty awesome.

'Oh Alice.' I sigh sympathetically. 'When it comes to adults; lacy and racy. _Always_ lacy and racy.'

She smiles a little but goes back to frowning. Carlisle is shaking his head now, laughing quietly to himself. He's thinking about the underwear I chucked at him earlier. _They_ were lacy. At least I stick to my word.

'Anyway, enough moping, she'll get over it eventually.'

Her little eyes glare in my direction now. I shrug.

'Just because _someone_ doesn't need to try.'

I poke my tongue out at her. 'I do try. I try _really_ bloody hard, I just don't sit here and complain about it like the rest of you do.'

Carlisle raises his hand. 'Me either.'

Pfft, nice try Christopher Robin.

'Yeah but you try so hard you don't even know what _fun_ is!' I retort, the boys murmuring their agreements with me.

He looks like he's going to say something, like we're actually going to have a bit of banter going on….He relents, closing his mouth over the cup rim and drinking slowly as if testing my patience which I don't have a lot of. Fucking fight me.

Jasper suggests we move to the next pub, which makes me happy because even if he has a face like cut stone it means he's getting involved. Carlisle decides to leave as promised and goes back to his hours of meticulous studying. So the rest of us party on. On about the 6th pub, me and Emmett are singing, Alice is wobbling because she's a lightweight and Edward holds up a continuous flow of incessant talking. The only difference in Jasper is that he looks a little more tired.

'Okay, okay. So I want you to meet someone.' Emmett says grinning at me, like I'm the one to please, or maybe because I'm the one who's not bladdered out my skull like the other losers.

He gestures to the two people shyly entering our circle of mayhem. I burst into laughter when I see them, Edward nearly drops his glass.

'Hey.'

I smile, recognising them immediately. Emmett pulls Blondie into his arms.

'This is Rosalie, my girl, and my friend Bella.'

I feel like we're at an AA meeting when everyone all mumble their hellos.

Blondie is dolled up to the nines (I say nine because I have never seen a perfect ten). Her long blonde hair is curled around her face and her make-up, _fierce_. Bella is trying, I have to give her that. Her hair is pulled away from her face until about the ears when it stands down in a line. She's shy still, wearing something particularly casual as opposed to her friend.

'Yep. Hi again.' I greet awkwardly, Alice busily chirping around behind me; she likes new people.

Emmett is all over the situation, excitedly demanding how we know each other. I think it's fair to say Bella's stance warms a little when I introduce the rest of the group _properly_. I have a feeling her and Blondie are sticking together for convenience rather than an actual bonding session.

Edward's smile has turned lopsided and because I'm both a great person and a horrible one, I put them together. They're awkward at first but after a while their stunted sentences flow into a nice rhythm.

'So how'd you meet?!' Emmett asks eagerly, nudging my side. I smile sarcastically but like usual he thinks I'm being nice. I wonder if Blondie is going to rat me out. Not that it bothered me but I liked Emmett, he and Alice were good company.

She does rat me out.

'Oh, well Esme kindly suggested that we were too fat for cake.' Her grin is too wide. I raise an eyebrow at her which she greets with a wicked smile. Wicked as in evil of course, there's nothing cool about her unless it's her personality…which is icy cool.

This bitch...?!

Emmett frowns at me, contemplating what he should feel. I see it in his eyes. He doesn't want to be pissed at me, especially not on a night out but if he sided with me and not his girl, he would be in the dog house indefinitely. I'm starting to wish Alice had a more prominent role in being my friend. Right now she was too wrapped up in her own affairs. Not that I could blame her.

'Now, now. That's not _exactly_ the words I used….' I attempt to correct, I hate game players or at least I hate girl game players. Eurgh!

'No, go on. Tell everyone about how you bullied us into joining the class.' The words are playful. Her victim-expression is not.

'I wouldn't call buying you coffee; ' _bullying'_.' I retort simply, making quotation marks with my fingers. My glass is empty and though I'm having a cool time, or was until Barbie pissed on my parade, I'm thinking it's time for another drink. Or another thousand...

Emmett is looking frustrated. He always gets frustrated if he doesn't understand. I sigh.

'Bella and Rose graced my yoga class this morning…' I deliberately say Bella's name first because this is the sort of juvenile shit that I know will annoy her. Emmett is beaming.

'You went to yoga this morning?! Babe, you never told me that!'

The pride in his voice is evident. There was some hidden conversation there that I knew I wasn't going to be told this evening. She's distracted enough by his praise, listening to him tell her all the muscles she'll be toning by the different exercises she'll do. She giggles in delight, a complete turnaround from just a second ago.

I should be grateful to Emmett for his sportsman knowledge, instead I'm feeling a bit left out. Everyone is in a couple.

Well, I guess that's my cue.

I head to the bar, deliberately swinging my hips a little as I do so and order a double spirit without the mixer. The kid at the bar has turned his attention to me. I say kid. He's obviously a freshman.

His smile is childish but everything else about him seems pretty nice. He's tanned with shaggy hair that's not too long but long enough that he has to pull it from his eyes.

'Hi,' he greets, his voice a little shaky. Not from puberty, he's drinking in a bar, he's obviously not that young.

'Hey,' I say huskily.

We do the usual routine of 'are you hear alone?'/'come meet my friends!' blah, blah, blahh...

* * *

He's chatting awkwardly to Jasper when Alice grabs my hands and places something in them. I put it in my bag immediately.

'Thanks.' I say with a grin. She's always had my back…even when grumpy.

She rolls her eyes and mutters something about heading to the pharmacy sooner rather than later. I'm drunk enough that I can ignore her without her getting offended.

'Man, I wish Carlisle came out more often, it takes longer for you to go into slut mode when he's here.'

Her words catch me off guard, mainly because I'm wondering if being four years older than the guy I'm going to be fucking tonight is skirting on the lines of paedophilia. He's hot, that'll do.

'Hey, I'm not a slut!' I slur delicately.

'Whore then.'

'Whores get paid.' I remind her. She rolls her eyes again. It's strange for her to bring up the Saint. As sweet as he is, he at times acts like a non-entity. At others, he feels like the voice of reason. He's so innocent that getting bladdered in front of him before popping out for a quick shag is beyond inappropriate.

I don't know why I just thought that? What was my point?

'Only because he's so shy! Honestly I wonder how it doesn't just wind you up sometimes!' I don't mean to be yelling but for some reason I am… There's alcohol for ya!

It sure as hell winds me up. If he realised how gorgeous he was and went out and got laid, maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty being more open with my body.

'He's not _that_ shy, Esme.' She says with a frown. I do a double take.

'I lived with that guy long enough and he can barely string more than a 2-word conversation before running back to 'study'.'

Alice surprises me by giggling. 'Maybe he's not studying…..' She raises her eyebrows at eyes her crotch to suggest something a little raunchier. I shudder.

'Ew, that's my flatmate you're talking about.' I chide with a look of disgust. He was just _so_ Saint like, the very idea felt wrong. 'Besides, I'm not even sure he's aware he's got a dick.'

Like Alice does, she rolls those large brown eyes like a little Pixie. I know Carlisle is studying. It's Saturday night, he's not working, he'll be perched over his desk long into the night trying to remember the Latin for every bone in the ear and the right medicine to administer for what kind of infection for it.

So I turn my attention back to my 'partner', making some kind of talk before Emmett suggests we go to a club. I tell him I'm drunk enough because I don't want to ruin his fun and dancing was as enjoyable drunk as it was sober.

Let me say this now. It ends up being the worst fucking idea in human history and only leads me into more dumb situations.

Edward who normally gets involved is so excited over his new found friend, they leave without telling anyone where they're going. Now I'm all for getting the boy laid but for fuck sake, safety _first_ people. Let us know when you feel like leaving!

Though I can't see Bella being the type of girl to put out on the first night….

Alice and Jasper dance with me for a while before insisting they have to get back home, Jasper's got work in the morning. So in the weird drunken state that I am, I wave them off. My date for the night, although cute, is a shit flirter and I know if I don't get him home soon, I'll end up not wanting to go anyway near his trousers.

Besides Emmett and Bitchy Barbie are dry humping on the dance floor and I don't want to be there to see them get kicked out.

It's only when I get back out into the air that I realise how drunk I am…and holy shit….

I have to blink several times before focusing on thingy's face. I don't really remember his face, I'm sorry. None the less, I enjoy a little flirt and a giggle in the back seat of the taxi.

And from there it goes downhill.


	3. Reasons why sex is bad

_**Please review!**_

* * *

I'm so drunk, I don't even take a second look into the accommodation he's in. I continue to snog him, listening to the instructions of my body, following him eagerly upstairs into a dark room. I don't even think, like the fucking _idiot_ I am, and quickly help the guy out of his clothes.

Let me just put this here; When I said before sex was fun...l meant with the right person.

The guy kind of knew what he was doing, which was nice because the thought of stealing his virginity made me feel sick. He stood at an average kind of height: tall enough to have me straddle him on the bed without much discomfort. Which o aided in the whole excitement, especially when his expression lit up greedily once the dress was pulled from my body.

That was never unflattering. The underwear was a good call, I decide as I peel off the bottoms. I'd have to thank Carlisle later.

Then it starts to get _awkward_.

I pull the condom from my bag, tear it and part take in a little foreplay. He has a piercing on his foreskin that the condom gets stuck over at first but kind of deals with later. In my naivety, this only excites me more. I've never really done it with a guy with a piercing and I _love_ to learn….

So thanks to the drinking, my brain is fuzzed enough that we can pretty much get into it without much oiling, if you get me...

We start with me on top before I switch it round so that I'm in reverse cowgirl position, (barely aware of the metal in his nob) and the more the asshole talks, the dryer I get.

'Talk dirty.' He demands, pulling my hips down on him with a smack. I make a face of disgust that he can't see because I'm facing the door.

In my quest to find the orgasm through sex, I have a _hunch_ that this is yet another failed night of unfound treasures... but I'm nothing if not thorough. This meaning (I don't know why and I fucking kick myself thinking about it), I awkwardly follow his plea.

'Oh? Urm…yeah? That's so…good...'

Kill me. Fucking kill me. It's not _good_ , it's not even nice. This is just fucking weird!

'Keep talking, baby.'

I hold the bile in my throat, fighting to ignore whatever he's doing downstairs which is pretty hard to do with how loud he is…

'Yeah? Don't…stop. Oh yeah…? Keep going.' I can physically feel myself sobering up with the pure air of disgust.

'You like that, don't you?' he groans, thrusting harder, skin slapping together.

'Oh yeah? Man… I like… that?' WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS GUY DOING?! '…. A lot?'

I grasp the bottom of the bed for a bit of support as he slams into me. Like _what the fuck?_ Am I having sex with the guy or is he trying to send me through the ceiling?! Sit the fuck down.

'I'm so close.' He murmurs out of fucking NOWHERE.

I'm not even on the right path and my poor fucking vagina is being torn to shreds. I'm kinda glad I don't have to face him though, this is awkward enough as it is...

And that's when I see it. On the set of drawers opposite me; Several photographs...Of a family?

Then it hits me.

And my lack of arousal plummets to new depths.

I'm shagging the guy...in his _parent_ 's bed... Hell to the nahhh-wayyy.

He's groaning in my ear, pulling me onto him awkwardly, fingering my bare back. I'm feeling sick, trying to ignore the family photos, trying not to vomit, trying to just get this over and done with...

Then the unthinkable happens.

Simultaneously. And I mean fucking _simultaneously_ , his parents come through the door, see my petite little frame astride the genitals of their son, tits on display and as that happens, I feel a very, painful tear followed by his release from the inside of said-petite-frame.

The mother hurries out the door with a slam and he shamelessly grasps my hip, unaware of our exposure. He doesn't even realise my cry out was of genuine pain and _not_ pleasure. I'm holding back the groan in my chest as I jump off him as quick as fucking possible.

 _Pain._ Just pure hot fire in my legs and not a nice kind. _  
_

There's too many things confusing my drunk brain so I do the first thing I can think of and put my hands between my thighs.

Red.

Ew.

'You're on your period?!' He yells, disgusted, jumping away from me at speed.

I'm in so much pain right now; the sensitive skin feels inflamed and so bloody sore I have to stop myself from crying like an idiot.

'No you twat, you made me _bleed_!'

Oh.

 _Shit._

 _I am actually going to vomit_.

The ugly condom sat on his flaccid self, slightly ripped at the top from that stupid ridiculous shitty piercing very slightly stained with pink. I sway on my feet, holding in my wretch. If the condom broke... That assholes _junk_ is inside me.

'I'm going to the bathroom!' I say quickly, grabbing all my stuff and speeding into it, avoiding all members of the house. I'm trying to not hyperventilate as I sit on the toilet seat, looking to see if I've done any more damage because it sure as hell feels like it.

It's almost as if someone fused and iron and a curling tong together and used the hottest part of the metal to singe the very opening of my legs. Let me just announce this, I don't to well with pain... I freak the fuck out at taking pills. Pain and me do not mix!

After taking several heavy breaths in case I do vomit, I grab my phone, dialling with shaky hands because for now, the alcohol I drank is my enemy. At this moment, I'm selfishly just going to ignore the time on the bathroom wall which is very early... too early if I'm being honest, an emrgency was an emergency.

' _Hello_?' He sounds groggy, maybe a little breathless.

'Did I wake you?!' Why am I concerned?! Focus on yourself, Esme.

' _No…no, I'm awake_ '

Blatant lie but I appreciate it anyway.

'I need to ask a _huge_ favour….'

' _Why are you whispering?_ '

I find myself frowning in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Why does he think 1 in the morning is the best time for your normal voice?!

' _You're_ whispering!' I accuse back. Urgent situation, vagina is on fire!

He clears his throat and speaks normally: ' _Sure, what's up_?'

There's a yawn in the background but I can hear him shuffling about. I feel like a fucking child. This shit is embarrassing as hell.

'Can you come and get me?'

Pause. Always good in this sort of situation, thanks...

' _Where are you?!_ ' He sounds a little concerned now, I can hear the car keys jangling by the receiver, I sigh with relief. As much of a fucking Saint the guy is, he's is 100,000% dependable.

I give him the address and awkwardly pull on my clothes with the door locked. I'm still bleeding which makes me feel even sicker….

The git from there doesn't even knock on the door to see if I'm okay. I _hate_ freshman! But then I'm not sure if I can hear him getting told off but his mummy…eugh.

* * *

It doesn't take long for the car to pull up on the side of the street and because there's no way in hell I'm facing his parents let alone him, I decide to climb awkwardly out the window. I don't unlock the door, because that's something the bastard will have to deal with when I'm not there. A shit attempt at revenge.

Although he looks mainly concerned, there's a smirk playing on Carlisle's lips as I slam the car door shut.

'Any particular reason why you climbed the drainpipe rather than exit through the door like a normal person?'

I turn to see him looking at the road, he looks tired but hasn't said anything. He's far too polite. I'm starting to wonder how he got to me so fast if he drove this slow.

'I would have…' I defend, trying to not fidget. Holy hell I'm in agony. '...If his parents weren't home…'

He winces for me which I appreciate, what I did not appreciate was the laughter that accompanied it. I shoot him a glare.

'Did you wanna tell me what happened?' It's a genuine question. He'd never push me into it. I sigh groggily, trying to hide the hiss of pain. His blue eyes catch mine, furrowed with confusion.

'Can we stop at the pharmacy?!' I mutter, attempting to conceal my look of pain but a: he's a good reader and b: I'm a shit liar. He pulls in to the free parking space outside the bright lights of the open-all-hours sign, frowning at me. I'm starting to regret the whole bloody night.

Well….I regretted it earlier but this is just rubbing salt into sore wounds…. Very, _very_ sore wounds. Why the fuck does it hurt so much?!

'Do you want me to come with?' He asks, taking the keys from ignition.

I sigh, clenching my legs together that little tighter in case I leak blood on his car seats. Which isn't a nice thought in itself but lets just ignore that point...

'Only if you get a doctors discount?'

He follows me into the shop, though I'm sure it's because he doesn't trust my drunken legs to not give out on me. His eyebrows are raised and because Cullen is exceptionally bright, he's keeping a safe distance. He can sense I'm a little pissed, he's staying out of my way.

Again, I don't know why I do it considering the outrageous burning in my lady parts but I guess I'm an optimist. I throw a box of rubbers on the counter and delicately ask for 'option b' or whatever the heck it is. I'm trying to keep my voice low but Cullen hears me nevertheless and pulls me away.

'Esme? You're on the pill, you don't need _Levonorgestrel_?'

I glare at him, trying to shut him up. Why did he have to be so loud?!

'I know.' I mutter, trying to keep my face still as my poor bloody insides burn like hell. Shut the fuck up Cullen.

'Did you use a condom?' He asks, genuinely confused, pink in his cheeks as if I've just pinched the skin there.

It's annoying that he decides now to feel less embarrassed about this kind of crap. He's fiddling with the car keys.

'Obviously but it…' I eye the person at the counter before looking back to my flatmate 'split…'

Stupid shitty piercing!

'You'll be fine…' He tries to reassure but it's a bit late now.

'I'm not taking any chances!'

Paying for the damn thing makes me even angrier because not only does he in fact not have a discount, but it's a good $30 out of my pocket…and I need fuel!

He's looking very, very confused but doesn't argue with me.

I need to appreciate the fact that not only did he come recuse me from my stupid mistake, he also did so early in the morning. I sigh, following him back to the car, hating the damn judgement from the cashier.

'If the pill is 98% effective then there's a possibility of that two percent of me fucking-up completely.' His blue eyes hold mine and he slows to match my waddling pace with no comment. 'The condom would have covered that two percent but because that split, I'm left vulnerable.'

He looks like he wants to argue my explanation but doesn't, he holds out the passenger door for me, frowning when I fall with complaint into the seat.

'So I'm going to be super safe and take the lever-never-whatever.'

'Levonorgestrel?' He offers, settling into the driver's seat and clicking the seatbelt into place.

I wince again as I move too quickly, groaning very loudly this time.

'Are you okay?'

He has his hands raised with no idea where to put them. I take a large breath.

'I need to ask you another favour….'

I look at shyly beneath my lashes. Why on earth I think it's a great idea to ask my flatmate for help is beyond me but he _is_ a Doctor…at least in training…

'Of course.'

I gulp, loudly. It's not like he's going to freak out is it? I mean it's not a weird thing to ask?.

'Can you…check my….'

I point. It's unlike me to be without my words but even drunk this kind of behaviour is super embarrassing. Maybe it is a bit odd.

I've never seen the guy so animated.

'What on earth for?!' He asks in panic, his mellow and measured voice breaking all codes of controlled conduct when it hits the fucking ceiling in manner of fear.

'I'm bleeding.' I say quickly. The face he gives me suggests I'm an idiot. 'And _not_ intentionally.'

He looks like he's seen a ghost, he's pale as hell and is fighting for words I can't give.

'I think his piercing ripped my…skin…' I say delicately, hiding away from his confusion.

'What?'

Just like a flick of a switch, I'm suddenly angry once again.

'Look, you're the only doctor I know, are you going to check it out for me or not?!'

It's his turn to gulp now and I'm really starting to hate myself that little bit more as I wait for his reply.

'Can't I just drive you to the emergency room?!' His voice is weak, feeble like.

'Heck no!' I yell, jumping in my seat and regretting it. 'They'll shove a huge plastic contraption up there and I'll be completely barren for the rest of my life!'

Barren is not the word I'm after but it's the only one I can fit into place. He cringes very visibly, sensing my pain before taking a large sigh.

'But I'm not a gynaecologist! Let alone a _real_ doctor, yet.'

I roll my eyes barely noticing that it is 110% unlike him to be so dramatic.

'I'm not asking for an expert, I just wanna know if I'm going to be okay!'

He then does something so weird for him, I genuinely start to question who the fuck I called and if it really is my flatmate.

He starts to hit his forehead again the head of the steering wheel, groaning like a child. Wow…he must be like really closeted gay. What kind of guy would react so adversely to a vagina? I try not to be offended as I watch him carefully, hit his head again, again, again and again, the same spot on his forehead repeatedly.

It almost sounds like a growl when he spins to me, sighs loudly and says 'fiiiiine'.

'Thank –you.' I say quickly, feeling really irritated. Surely a doctor would be far more professional but nope, apparently even the mention of vagina seemed to have him out in hives. Huh, and I thought he was just shy… Not just closeted gay fucking Narnia closet gay?

There's a few awkward seconds of silence as he drives back home, his face back to normal though his hands fidget on the wheel.

'Did Edward get home alright?' I ask, still feeling really bloody sore, in both lady bits and pride but at least I had all I needed.

This perks him up again.

'Oh yeah.' He says with a smile 'He _definitely_ got home alright.'

As indicated earlier. Carlisle is too shy to gossip and so hearing him say this really throws me.

'He got laid?!'

What a fucking surprise.

But he shakes his head. 'No no…well, I guess you'll find out.'

My curiosity burns like hell but I let it lie as a nice surprise when I get home. I need a pick me up. Especially at someone else's expense other than mine.

I'm hoping he didn't get into another fight. I mean, he's not a fighter anyway but one time- Cullen's looking at me isn't he? I can feel him watching me curiously out of the corner of his eye. He's always curious. I sigh loudly.

'If you really wanna know _that_ bad!' I complain, glaring at him but the smile he gives me relaxes my face. We weren't really big talkers, it was genuinely quite nice to see him interested…it was just annoying that it meant exposing myself as a dumbass.

'I'm sorry,' he said guiltily but his mind still wonders.

'I exited out the window because I didn't want to see his parents after they caught us deep in the throes of passion in _their_ bed.'

Passion. _Ha._ I'd had more passion from my vibrator…which to be fair didn't seem like a bad thing to be attached to at the moment.

I watch his face contort painfully.

'You can laugh.' I growl, folding my arms over my chest. But I _will_ kill you for it…

'Oh Es,' he's biting his bottom lip to stop from bursting out. That only pissed me off more. Either laugh or don't. Don't pretend to feel sorry for me! 'Didn't you check out the décor? It doesn't even _look_ like a student house…'

I groan and let my head fall back to the headrest. 'I wasn't really focusing on the wallpaper!' I huff grumpily.

He pushes his lips together, scowling at the road in another attempt to keep from laughing.

He was meant to be the shy one! What the hell had Alice put in his juice?!

'Fuck it, no more men for me.' I decide, shaking my head as if to dismiss their foolishness at foreskin piercings... yuck.

He fights the smirk bubbling on his mouth until eventually he gives in and lets it stay.

'I doubt you'll stick to that….'

Okay, now that definitely wasn't the sort of thing he would normally say. What the hell?!

'No, I will. I'm only shagging women from now on.' I reply, determinedly. He raises an eyebrow at me.

'And how is that going to work?'

 _Really_?! You're apparently the gay one?!

'You really need me to explain that?' I question, matching the raised eyebrow. He chuckles.

'No, I mean, you're hardly bi let alone lesbian.'

Okay, since when was he keeping tabs on me?

'True…' I say quietly, nodding. Far too much alcohol tonight, far too much pain and not nearly enough excitement.

He parks his hot-as-hell car outside the house, following on my heels as I bound up the porch steps, eager to be hidden in the privacy of our home.

'Did you need me to start running a bath?'

I throw my heels on the sofa, pausing on the stairs to look behind at him. Perhaps he felt bad for laughing, maybe he was just trying not to get on my bad side. Not the point, he looked as genuine as ever. A bath was much needed and with any hope, it might make me feel a bit better.

'That would be great, actually' I say, smiling. I wanted to wash every inch of tonight off of my skin.

So I grabbing a tshirt, I accompany Cullen into the bathroom, of which he is so eager to show me for reasons didn't give a shit about-.

I take that back.

Edward has his head in the toilet bowl, trying to hurl up the remnants of this afternoon's kitchen mess into the ceramic white and pretty much ruining the fresh scent of the cleaned shitter.

For fuck sake, we only had one bathroom.

And yet on the other hand, it was definitely nice to see someone else regret their decisions for tonight. I pat him awkwardly on the shoulder as he continues to hurl, spraying the air freshener at him while he groans. I was naturally a selfish being and bubble bath could only do so much.

Cullen is smiling. He seemed to be pleasantly delighted in being taken away from studying tonight but then I guess everyone had their breaking point and Carlisle had been looking out for Edward since childhood. This was probably a nice little bit of ammunition on offer in case either of us needed it.

He tests the bath water. Before grabbing the bucket from under the sink and gently patting Edward's back.

'Come on, enough of Bella, back to bed.'

He's referring to the untangible conversation Edward is keeping up with the girl from the yoga class. But I'm more focused about the fact I want to have a bath alone rather that the teenager had a crush.

Edward groans again. I laugh until he, eventually in his drunken state, lets Cullen lead him back to his own room.

'I'll see you in my room' Carlisle mutters, offering a shy smile before shutting the door closed with an air of finality. You did have to feel sorry for him in one respect, it must suck always babying the two of us.


	4. Reasons why you can depend on the virgin

I washed as thoroughly as sandpaper until I was sure I couldn't smell either Edward's vomit or even my own perfume tainting my skin. I couldn't tell if I was still bleeding, all I knew was that I was in a lot of pain. A stupid amount of worthless agony that brought moisture to my eyes if I walked too fast. And I _never_ cry.

Eurgh.

Pulling on the nightshirt and leaving the bottom free, I waltz back into the Saint's room to find him reading and re-reading from a large book. He looks shy again, which you can't necessarily blame him for. As a gay guy- which I'm still pissed I've only just discovered- he's having more experience with my vag than I would've expected….

'Where do you want me?' I ask, gesturing to the large space of his room.

He'd attempted to tidy which meant he'd stacked all the books that were in the way into tall neat piles. He was shrugging, gesturing to the whole room like a shy teenager.

'You-' he stopped, coughed to clear his throat and spoke louder. 'You need to be raised so I can see your… _injuries_ '

I take a seat on his bed and fall comfortably into the mattress, leaning on my elbows to look at him as if we were doing something other than an internal examination…

Well, I guess that would be considered an internal examination too.

'What are you laughing at?' He asks, smiling, finally starting to chill. The realisation clicked into place; If I wasn't embarrassed, why should he be?

The pulling on of white gloves with that awful smacking sound made me shudder. But for him, the scene got easier. He was transforming into work mode like the flick of a switch. Putting on his uniform.

It made me laugh more.

'Myself.'

He nodded though he didn't understand what this meant and knelt onto the floor so that he was eye level with my knees.

'Urm…' The trembled voice began delicately.

I looked over my abdomen to where he sat awkwardly. He was far too tall and the bed far too low down.

'You're too low.' He confirms with a frown to his words. I sit up and look around the room again, ignoring his temporary relief. If you say youre going to do something, you'd better do it. I don't give up that easily.

'Well how about here?' And without even a seconds pause I shove the building of books from the desk and painfully jump onto it, foolishly expecting it to be as soft as the bed. I hate drunk Esme.

He pulls at his shirt collar, turning a deep pink.

'That'll do.' His voice is mute.

He positions a tall lamp closer to my lower half, fixes his chair and takes a deep breath before rolling up my shirt just enough that it still covers the injuries. Despite the pain I am in, there is something genuinely funny about him panicking so silently just because I was laying mostly naked on his desk.

Bloody hell, you would've thought he was allergic to the female body with that expression on his face.

'Hold on.'

Okay, _what the fuck is that?!_

He jumps back, relieved for the distraction.

'What the fuck is that?!' I repeat (just aloud this time), glaring at the tub of lube sitting at his knee. He blushes and tries hard to look as if he is not.

'It's err... KY jelly?' He holds it up so I can see it better under the lamp light.

Even a little inebriated, I'm not an idiot. What the fuck is the Saint doing with lube?!

'Where did you get it?' I ask carefully. Was this the kind of revelation me and Alice had been giggling about earlier?

'It's Edwards- it was in his drawer'

Oh _hell_ no!

'Fuck that!' I yell jumping off of the desk at speed. He gulps nervously, not understanding where he'd gone wrong. And this was why I found him so frustrating.

'What?!'

'Haven't you got your own?! Like some doctors brand or some shit?!' I'm sounding hysterical.

'Not on me, no.' He says defensively, clearly panicking. I roll my eyes and take a calming breath. There is no way in hell, I'm going near that stuff! He'll be bringing out the tissues next, too. Ew.

'I've got some in my room, hold on…'

At least I knew what the heck I did with my own tub. When I return to his room, he's sat in the same position in his chair like marble. I throw the jar to him , which he catches perfectly, and re-position myself on the edge of the desk, rolling up the t-shirt again while he keeps a distance.

'Are you absolutely sure-' the croaking of his voice begins.

'Yes!' I enuciate, gesturing for him to get on with it.

From beneath my knees, I see him shake nervously. He's lucky I'm drunk enough to be confident for the both of us. You would've thought this was the first naked woman he's seen from the way he's reacting.

Ass.

'If you-' he's squeaking again. 'If you could just part your legs for me…'

That was a phrase I was familiar with, maybe in not so delicate words. I did so with no complaint. Well I say _no_ complaint. I was complaining but it was in my head, cursing damn penis piercings and the stupid people who invented them.

There was an awful sound as he applied the gel to his fingers

'This may be a little cold…'

Okay, this time, I did swear but it hardly counts because I say it quickly. My eyes are clamped shut as he shakily inspects the area, his voice jumping everywhere as he tries exceedingly hard not to freak out.

It wasn't too bad.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't having fun and I was desperate for him to hurry the fuck up, but…I'd had worse up there…one being the piercing…two being the dick attached to it…

All in all he was very…professional. But then what else was the Saint going to do? Throw holy water at me? Give me an orgasm?! Pfft, puh-lease.

' _What in the sane hell?'_

My head snaps to the doorway in the direction of the voice... to see Edward glaring at the two of us, looking nauseous and very confused. He was on his way to the bathroom.

'Is that…?' He'd spotted the jar, then.

And with that he rushes off to vomit.

Blue eyes catch mine before quickly looking away again, seemingly mastered in the act of concentration.

Okay, the shutting the door was again my fault but what the fuck Edward?!

'Anyway…'

The shake in his voice is matching the shake in his hands. It's getting awkward again, he's unaware of what he's looking for.

'You're a little…' I start to say.

He stops abruptly and by stopping I mean he freaks out and freezes up which goddamn burns. If I can't deal with a flaccid penis up there why in the sane hell does he think having his huge hands spread out like a fucking flower is a good idea?! OW?!... Yet my vocal cords know to kep it silent. If I yelled at him for hurting me he'd only panic once more and cause more pain.

Blue eyes covered by thick blonde hair greet my gaze. I sigh again, feeling really bloody victimised as I reach below to grab his wrist and shift it lower.

'It's kind of towards the back?' I tell him, ignoring the awkwardness. If it can be ignored? I'm no nurse, why the heck am I getting involved?!

'Oh,' he says gently but he sounds a little normal when he speaks again. 'Yeah, you've torn the skin…'

Ahhh shit. I know what that means.

'How bad is it?' What a weird thing to be asking my flatmate at 3 in the morning?!

With his elbow, he hits the head of the light to give him a better view then blinks a few times before frowning.

'You need to sit down.' He sighs, stopping to look at me and apparently regretting it. Like, I get it, I understand vagina isn't your forte but be reasonable, dude! I lay back down again with a mumble. 'And you need to relax…'

'I am relaxed!' I retort loudly. More relaxed than him anyway. I shift my hips from the painful oak of the edge and lay back down again.

'Ready?'

I can't help it, I have to shift again because the wood fucking impales my ass.

'Haven't you got a pillow or something?!'

He's obviously got a pillow, I can see it from here, but he's touchy when he replies.

'I'm a bit tied up at the moment…' he mutters. It's not like him to seem stressed…but then I did wake him up in the middle of the night…. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.' He amends, sighing. 'Do you think you could…?'

I reach as much as I can but the bed is close to the floor, I'm closer to the window, on a desk like 6feet away. And my arms are too short. Stupid bloody DNA!

He sighs again before I hear the slap of the latex coming off. He reached for his pillow on the bed allowing the sight of his sweating to become eviden under the lamp's gleam. You can see it on his forehead and at his neck. For fuck sake, man up Cullen.

'Lift.' He's gentler now, placing the cushion beneath me before instructing me down again. 'Better?'

'Just get on with it?' I criticise, impatiently. He nods obidiently.

It's a few seconds into doing whatever he's doing that I hear him muttering to himself.

 _'Sternum...'_

Upon hearing the fatal weapon of destruction, I consequently freak out and tense up thus issuing the pain of ten thousand knives into the lining of my bits.

'Hell—ahh _shit._ '

He places the heel of his hand on my pelvis, simply touching the skin with the awful rubber in a reassuring attempt. Then realisation takes place and he panics once again, sickened once more that his actions were more flatmate-like rather than Doctor-focused. I don't know whether that was a blessing or a curse.

'You need to relax...' He repeats apologetically.

We share an awkward look before frustrated, I painfully throw my head to the wood and regret it.

'What are you even doing, anyway?!' I complain, cursing my shitty self. But the distraction of us talking seems like a nice calming technique.

'I'm putting lidocaine on the area...'

'English please.' I mutter. This has him smiling,

'I'm numbing the area for you...before I _stitch_ it.'

'I NEED STITCHES?!'

 _Fuuuuuck_

'No! No, no...I'm sorry. I was joking…' He looks guiltily at me and I have the feeling that my drunken face is looking paler than expected.

' _Not. Funny'_ I punctuate, grabbing the stolen breath through my teeth. Jeez, comic timing!

He tries not to laugh but I hear it slip through his mouth like a breath. I don't even think about it when I deliberately kick his shoulder with the bottom on my foot most probably exposing even more of myself to him (if that was even possible?).

He's fucking lucky I'm not wearing my heels.

'I'm really sorry…I was trying to lighten the mood.'

'Fantastic choice at three in the morning. Please, continue to delight me with your hilarious commentary. I had no idea you were, in fact, a comedian,'

On the whole, I've forgotten he has the upper hand considering where his hand is positioned but luckily, he acts with his usual fear.

'I really am _very_ sorry…'

I huff at him and then we're interrupted by the cursing and the moaning and the hurling of a Mr. Masen. Like a professional, his eyes are on his patient. Or rather, on his patient's genitals.

'Okay, I'm done.'

He pushes his chair as far from me as he can get without being rude, ripping the gloves off at speed and with it, I'm sure, some of his hand hair. I sit up carefully, holding my head, annoyed for lots of reasons least of all that my flatmate is looking like he wants to kill himself. It's largely offensive.

'I'm going to check on Edward, if you wanna…'

I jump off of the wood, pleasantly surprised that my sore areas are no longer sore. Okay, now I'm smiling.

'Thanks,' I say quickly and I mean it. I'll do something nice later to prove it but for now I'm super relieved and am looking forward to just turning in my bed and going to sleep to put such a shitty night to rest.

'I wouldn't…' Carlisle stops at the doorway, hand on the wood, eyebrows pulled low with a restrained smile. He starts again. 'Maybe have a _rest_ for two weeks.'

 _Two WEEKS?!_ I should be grateful I'm not in a relationship but I'm a hungry girl…I need to feed…a _lot_.

I nod, deliberately holding the smile so he knows I'm not happy but he only grins in entertainment.

And then the smell of stomach acid mixed with churned food hits me.

Did I mention I hate freshman?! Because I don't just hate them, I fucking despise them! With an air of total disgust, I follow the sting on my nose until I'm facing the west side of Edward's bedroom wall and man, am I angry!

You know what's worse than a freshman?

A freshman who can't hold his drink.

For fuck sake.

Heading to the kitchen, I fill a bucket with warm soapy water, pick up every bottle of disinfectant I can find and grab a washing basket.

'Need any help?' He asks when I'm sat on my knees scrubbing at the carpet and the walls trying to eradicate the stench of vomit and earlier's food. Eurgh!

'Go babysit!' I growl angrily knowing that he's already been doing that when he returned home while I was running around having a good time…well…not exactly a _good_ time…

I really should be grateful to him for taking the majority of Edward's care but he's pissed me off enough today that I'm starting to hate ever living with boys.

Alice has got it right, including the sex on tap.

He takes the baskets of soiled bedclothes and chucks them in the washer for me then helps me scrub at the carpet, saying nothing because he's gone back to being shy and he's clever enough not to wind me up. Especially when I'm clearing up his friend's stomach.

The thought makes me wretch.

Because I'm still very drunk, at least in my legs, Carlisle takes the sloshing water downstairs so I go find his friend. And my anger subsides.

Mainly because I know that I can use this as a threat for the rest of his life.

He has his head to the toilet seat, mumbling and whining about things I can't catch, his hand is weighing on the flush, his toothbrush hanging lazily in his mouth because he hasn't got the energy to move it.

There's a glass of water at his side that hasn't been touched. Man Carlisle _does_ baby him.

'Come on, Loser.' I say, pulling him gently to his feet but he's still drunk and is slurring foreign shit at me. Carlisle swaps with me so I grab the cleaned bucket and he holds his weight and together we tuck Edward into my bed like he really is a child.

He's still murmuring to himself in confusion when we settle the duvet around his crappy posture.

'I'll warn you now, you vomit in this room and daddy will be paying for all new furniture!' I threaten, placing the bucket by the end of the bed. He's frowning but otherwise shoos the both of us out. We're disturbing his sleep.

'Well I guess I'm with you then.' I slur, following Carlisle to his room. I can't tell if he's annoyed or not, he looks uncomfortable which is a little unusual but then this night has been full of wonders.

He offers a small smile and because I'm still a little offended about how adversely he reacted to my lady parts and how he took so long to infer he's gay, I see no harm in staying in just the shirt for the night.

* * *

When I climb into my usual side, he's reading from his bible of the anatomy. It's too light in the room anyway considering its 3:30 in the morning so I lean across, momentarily immobilising him and turn off his lamp.

'Thanks.' He murmurs sarcastically before I hear the thump of the book to the floor.

He should be lucky all I did was turn off the light. He's been rude enough today that I wouldn't be averse to punching him. Yeah, so much for _shy_. Not shy. Just gay.

Alice don't know shit either.

He relaxes a little in the dark which is nice for me because as much as I love to throw my weight around, it means I can curl up away from him, hiding in myself. It's so quiet I'm thinking he forgot to breathe but suddenly, I hear giggling.

Trying not to get irritated is hard because I'm tired and naturally irritable. Pulling the cover tighter over myself, I decide not to address his laughter because I have work in the morning and I'm grumpy enough as it is. But the laughter turns to a fit and he's laughing so hard I genuinely think I'm going to kick him out of the bed.

'I _will_ strangle you.' I seethe glaring at nothing in the dark.

'I'm sorry.' He answers, still smiling but the laughter works its way back up again.

'Cullen!' Fuck sake.

'I know, I'm shutting up.'

He's not shutting up which is why I'm so wound up. Fucking fuckity fuck. I will punch the guy.

He's still laughing. So I do the best thing for me and move to hold a pillow lightly over his face. Not enough to genuinely suffocate him but enough to silence him... But I'm wrong because that makes him laugh harder.

When he finally calms down, I'm so angry I'm silent. Okay someone definitely did something, he is not himself.

'That's the pillow you were sitting on….' He sighs taking a loud breath.

I'm already contemplating sending him to share the bed with Edward but then Edward is clearly not gay and I can't see him being his type either. Fucking boys suck… Feel free to add any emphasis on that sentence, it's all accurate.

'Are you done?!'

He smirks in the dark thinking I can't see it.

'Yeah, yeah... Sorry I don't know what came over me.' He's fighting the giggles now which I appreciate because it means he's trying. I don't like the fact he's failing but you can only do so the fuck to sleep or next time, I won't be nice when I suffocate you.

'Do you want to know what I'm laughing at?'

I blink. That's all. That's all I can answer with because everyone else with half a brain is already asleep. He's never this chatty?! What's his problem?!

'No.' I answer, throwing my head to the pillow.

The bed leans and when I open my eyes again I feel him looming over me, peering at my face like a mischievous puppy.

'Not even curious?' He whispers because now he's catching on that I am not adverse to murder let alone jail. At least in jail I'd be able to get on and sleep without any distraction.

His weight shifts again. He's leaning over me properly, his right hand flat by the space my elbow and stomach are grazing, his hair is falling in his eyes. He's still grinning.

'No.' I repeat, furrowing my face into the pillow. Maybe I'll stop breathing, that'll be nice.

I can feel his laughter on my face. For yet another time, I pull my heavy eyes open and see two large blue orbs focused on my face. It's making me dizzy.

'Not even a little?'

With a loud whine, I pull myself up.

'Is it me?!' I ask quickly. I'm too tired for this bollocks.

He's now really entertained and I'm trying to think if I've seen him take any loopy medicine. He's like some sort of hyperactive non-violent Jekyll and Hyde.

'I'm not laughing _at_ you.' He says, still giggling.

'Glad to hear it.' I turn the other way, facing his clothed twisted torso.

'Aww, don't be mad.'

I'm always mad!

'I'm not.' I growl.

'I didn't mean to wind you up…' He says, sounding softer already.

'Why don't we just sleep?' I say, feigning delight.

'Good idea.' He agrees, finally settling down...but I can see him grinning in the dark despite the fact my eyes are closed again.

'Cullen.'

'What?'

'Stop it.' I murmur.

'I'm not doing anything!' He argues, smiling loudly. Because he is smiling loudly which is why I'm getting wound up.

'You're distracting me!'

'From sleeping?' He questions. What the heck is with this guy?!

'I _will_ kick you out.' It wasn't an empty threat. My foot was prepared as we spoke.

'Of my own bed?!'

He's testing me.

'Okay, okay.' he says quickly. 'I'm sorry. Look, I'm asleep now.'

The bed moves gently and he snuggles into the cover. _Snuggles_. What the hell? How did I not predict he was gay?!

Then he finally lets me sleep.


	5. Reasons why assumptions are trouble

_**If you could continue to be beautiful humans and review, I'd appreciate it so much! Thank youuu!**_

* * *

This is probably the bit where I confess all to having really hot dreams about girl's sleepovers. I'm just fooling, I can't remember what the heck I dreamt about all that I know is that when I wake up, I'm really confused.

My shirt has ridden up to the very top of my back, just beneath my shoulders revealing all that I left to reveal. My head is heavy as I pull it from in between the two pillows and I can feel that my wet hair from last night is more than just a mess. Its volcanic curls in the state of hate….FUN

It's sunny around the room and I'm a little annoyed that he left the window open but it's not cold, that's a relief. It's more of a comfortable wind creeping from the duvet and up my skin.

After pondering the silence for a little too long, I finally stare reality in the face. Okay, I'm alone?

Hold on? It's Sunday?

Why the heck didn't the fucker wake me?!

I check the time and calm my mini heart attack. It's only eight. I've got an hour or so yet before work. Thank God. He's left me two pills, a tall glass of water, my plan b pill and a note.

I take all three pills quickly, soothing what is threatening to be a headache before I even want to begin getting up. I'm embarrassed….but I'm more embarrassed about the plan B pill rather than my lady parts. Thankfully the alcohol from last night has been nice enough to hide the hell of my shame and I feel normal enough that I can be angry at him for not letting me sleep and then not waking me up, rather than the fact I kinda made him responsible for my pain last night.

Yeah _shy_. Asshole wasn't shy come bedtime, was he?! Eurgh he's more complicated than all the girls I know, multiplied!

So, rather stupidly, I decide to confront him about it but before I do I read the note. His handwriting is painfully neat for a doctor because the Saint really is a bloody Saint.

 _Take with water if you can, if you can't there's yoghurt downstairs. Have fun at work! Xxx_

Sarcasm, how unlike him… I like it.

I'm lacing up my trainers when I spot Edward in the kitchen. He's nursing a headache which has me laughing and I'm glad to know he hasn't been sick in my room.

'Sure you have enough time for a run?' He comments, questioning both my hair and my sense of timing. We're a lot alike in the sense he's as much of a mess and I am and still he thinks he's above it all.

'I'm meeting Cullen.' I say, quickly tying my hair into a ponytail, I'll have to deal with it later if I get time.

'More fool you.'

I roll my eyes. Yeah alright, so the guy is pretty much healthier and fitter than half the athletes you see on TV, but it's only a run?! A mini run?! Stupid Edward. I wouldn't be in this position if he'd slept in his own vomit!

Oh, wait… No actually I still would be because St Bloody Peter still wouldn't have woken me. Bastard!

'Did he take the scenic route or routine?'

'It's Sunday, he took the routine.' He says obviously, making out I'm some dimwit or something.

I'm halfway out the door when he corrects himself. 'Oh wait. He did mention something about going scenic?'

Because of my long sleep, I'm feeling patient so I decide not to yell at him. Instead I slam the door, knowing that'll hurt his head just as much.

As the scenic route is gorgeous but incredibly long, I cut across town, barely warming up enough in the process. He's running along the canal, deep in thought, listening to his headphones. He's frowning but then according to where he's at he has been running for a good forty minutes at a really good pace.

I cut him off easily and because he's so deep in thought, he trips instantly and falls to his butt. He's trying to catch his breath.

'Hi.' He greets, shy as normal, eyeing me carefully. I pull him up and though I smile, he knows I'm going to make some comment he doesn't like.

So he seats himself on the hill I've just run down in an attempt to catch what he lost. He's soaked in his own sweat but it's only really adding colour to his tshirt, there is no sour aroma to it...in fact, If I was being honest, I'd correct myself by saying that I could smell his usual minty pine kind of clean smell...

He is weird.

Out of wonder, I place his earphone to my ear and cringe.

'Jesus Christ. Don't you ever stop?!'

He smiles sheepishly. He's listening to lecture notes. Yuck! Curse him all over, putting us all to shame the Nerd. He's too panicky for his own good.

'What's up?' He asks once he can breathe again.

There's definitely alcohol still in my system because when I look him, I feel a large sense of pity for the majority of single women including, oddly, myself. He's definitely well-toned and his shirt is fitting nicely, tight against his chest and back, the grey turning black. He's wearing blue gym shorts that stop at the back if the knee, showing well-formed calves.

 _Weird._

'You didn't wake me.' I complain. He _always_ wakes me on Sunday, mainly because I have to get to work before he starts his run.

'No, you're starting late today?' He says simply. He wipes his neck, finds it to be wet with sweat and wipes both hands on his shorts in distaste. Though it could also seem an attempt to avoid looking at me. 'Did you come all this way to tell me that?'

We're not that far from home but I know I have to get going by the end of the hour. I haven't even ironed my uniform yet.

'No.'

He wants to start running again but because I still haven't explained why I'm here he's slowed down to a joggers pace. That annoys me. We both know I run and I run well, his attempt to be nice is just patronising!

'So, what's up?' He asks again once we've turned the corner, he's running awkwardly. I'm starting to think he fell on his ankle but he powers through like usual. I'm not shy so I dive in the deep end.

'Okay, firstly. The heck was with last night?!'

'What?' He's red around the ears and breathless but that could be put down to the running.

Great, now he's going to make things good fun.

'One minute you were you, next minute you were…weird?' YOU'RE STILL BEING SUPER WEIRD!

He's frowning or trying to but his shifty eyes are giving him away. It's like asking the fat kid who ate all the pies.

'Go on?'

'Well you're normally shy and-'

'Hold on-' he suddenly stops running to stare at me. 'You think I'm _shy_?'

He's acting like it's a curse.

I can't tell if he's angry or not. He never gets angry which suggests no but he looked _really_ confused. Maybe embarrassed. Though the fact he thought he wasn't shy annoyed me _immensely_ , how much of an introvert can you be?!

'You act shy!' I defend. 'Anyway, who was I to associate it to your sexuality?'

His smile grows before falling dramatically.

'What?!' he sounds offended.

Hold on.

What is this unfamiliar territory? What's going on?!

'After four years you didn't think to tell me?!' I accuse, really quite annoyed the more I think about it. What kind of friend does that?! After four years of living with the guy he doesn't think we could like buddy up or whatever?! This is something we might've bonded over! It explains so much!

'Tell you _what_?'

His frown is so thick he doesn't look like himself anymore.

'That you were _gay_!'

We stare at each other for a few seconds before he speaks, at first looking like he's very calm but the squeak of his voice says something else.

'You think I'm _gay_?!'

I genuinely can't tell if he is mad. If he is, it's confused with entertainment. But he's definitely embarrassed. He just stands there, gawking at me.

I'm slowly becoming aware that the assumptions I jumped to may not be the ones that are actually true… oh. I'm just going to blame the heavy drinking.

'Well you hardly look at anyone girl I've seen. And you reacted awfully when you went anywhere near my vag.'

Let me just shout vagina a little louder, the dog walkers didn't hear...It seems that they in fact _had_ heard me judging by their look of disgust.

'You think because I don't gawk at your ass like Emmett does, or that I'm not boasting about being inside you that I'm gay?!'

Definitely mad. His sentence structure could've been nicer though. Now we _really_ we're being stared at.

'Sorry… That was uncalled for…' He adds quickly, looking deeply apologetic and taking a step closer, scratching at his forehead.

'Fine, whatever you are, asexual or whatever, why didn't you just say?!'

He's glaring at me. It doesn't suit him.

'I'm not a-sexual!' He yells.

Inside I'm laughing because whatever he's just yelled makes him sound like a pervert but I'm thinking I shouldn't be laughing because he really is oddly mad.

'I didn't say because there's nothing to tell! I'm straight! _Completely_ straight!'

There seems to be an emphasis there that I'm not understanding…. In my defence, him yelling this sort of thing doesn't sound convincing.

'Why have I never seen you with anyone then?!' I say smugly, folding my arms across my chest like I'm the petulant girl in front of my older brothers, thinking (falsely) that I know better…

In four fucking years, he's never so much as looked at another girl. What the hell is going on in his head?!

I shit you not, he firstly, _stepped away_ and secondly started to stutter.

 _Stepped away_! Like he was afraid of me! What a pussy!

'Because!'

Why he thought this was an answer was completely beyond me but then I don't really know why I'd been so irritated by the fact he hadn't told me. Sure, sure he was and had been my flatmate and friend for the past three to four years but that didn't really mean we spoke _a lot_. He was shy and I was…well… we just didn't need to speak a lot. Whatever trouble I managed to find myself in seemed to reach him before it even reached me anyway.

'Because what?' I persist.

'Because I've been _busy_. What are you, my parents?!'

This is how I knew I struck the nerve. His mother died in childbirth and his father and him didn't get along. From what I gather, a _scary_ guy. Really bloody scary…and a bit nuts too...

I'm not usually wrong so imagine how hard it was to scurry back into my hole once I realised I was burning in the sunlight of shame.

'I didn't-' _Err_? - 'I'm sorry it's just…well you're so consistent and last night you were all over the place!'

'Can you blame me?! I didn't exactly plan my Saturday evening giving my roommate an oral exam!'

It's a dumb sentence. I crack a smile. He laughs before I do but then I had that kind of face. No one ever really stayed angry at me for long.

'Blame the apple juice.' He says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes and hit him lightly in the chest. This may be the first time he's ever put up some sort of defence. I'm both shocked and a little proud. Finally we're getting somewhere!

'So...definitely not gay, huh?'

He rolls his eyes and with a stiff kind of manner, moves his head from let to right.

'I've got to get ready,' I say, checking my watch though its batteries ran out about 6months ago and I still haven't changed it…It's a nice piece of jewellery. I was technically already running late considering how long it usually took me to get ready. 'I'll see you later.'

'Mines a double expresso!' He replies, replacing the headphones back in his ears. I knew what that meant, it meant he was working tonight too. Ahh well then, back to reality.

* * *

What really sucks is that work is busy today so not only do I have to go in earlier but for as many people there are, there's about four coffees to each and my boss is pissing me right off.

He's a large man and that's putting it lightly, or err, _heavily_ … anyway the cash front is a very small area. I hesitate on the way of putting the cups away because there is no way in hell I'm squeezing my tiny ass into that area just to go get touched up by his sweaty frame.

'Don't just stand there, if you're coming in, come in.' He orders, glaring at me, or my tits, whatever his eyes falls on first.

I have to bite my tongue. I look at him and squeeze beside the lad of lard, trying not to freak out when his sweaty body pushes deliberately against mine. It's at this point, I start to hate my life. Especially because I'm still in a little pain from last night. But with the thought on last night, my mind quickly wonders to the Saint.

Sex and sexuality is presumed to go hand in hand but it doesn't always. People _love_ to put a label on things. (Don't now go kill yourself out of guilt, everyone does it, I've done it too). You snog the person of the same sex and they immediately jump the gun and call you gay. You don't have to be. Have sex with who you want and don't let your likes and dislikes dictate who you are. Unless you want that of course. I'm no prude.

Thinking Cullen is/was gay was a genuine mistake but you can't blame me! I have no qualms about him loosening up a little, it's just annoying he didn't tell me. I'm a _great_ wingwoman.

Oh right, yeah. _Not_ gay.

Well what is his problem then?! I've seen plenty of girls fall for him, arse over tit and he doesn't give them a second look –

'Oh God!' she cries.

Holy shit!

'Tilly!' I whine, grabbing a towel and holding it to my arm. The total idiot she is has split boiling hot coffee on my wrist and it is burning through multiple layers of skin plus the top of my thigh!

I hold it under the sink for a few minutes, trying not to get angry at her because she is new but then she's also been here long enough not to be an idiot. That and her name sounds weird in my accent.

She's hanging around me not really knowing what to do, panicking slightly. She's pink in the face, her long blonde hair curled and in the way of anything she touches. It's annoying as hell that she's the only one that gets away with having her hair down but then she's fuck ugly so it's quite nice not to look at her whole face.

She's still hanging around me. Not offering any help while I try not to whimper in pain.

'What?' I ask, trying not to rude which is hard for me. My arm is stinging like hell...

Bloody hell girl, leave me be.

'Your friends are here…' She sounds nervous.

Arse over tit exhibit A.

I roll my eyes. She's always like this when Cullen comes in. I'm silently wishing he'd fuck off. She watches me concerned, not over my wrist or my thigh where the remaining coffee has burnt but over what she needs to do or what she thinks she needs to do.

' _And_?'

Ow, ow ow, fucking ow! Stupid water, stupid Tilly with the dumb-arse name meant for three year olds.

'What do I do?' she asks nervously, gazing at him like he's some kind of advert…to be honest, it isn't half off …he can at times look unnaturally beautiful.

What does she mean she doesn't know what to do?! She works in a coffee shop?! How about stop playing with your hair like a useless lump of meat and serve them?!

'Get them a drink?' I say, extenuating the fact she's acting like she's too stupid to be let into the backwards asylum and letting the cold water numb the burning momentarily.

Or tell them to go away if they're going to have this kind of effect in my work place.

'But I don't know what they drink!'

How about a _coffee_?!

I have to fight the urge to slap her with my welted hand.

She should know what they drink, Cullen orders the same thing every day I'm working and Edward clearly isn't going to drink anything because he looks like the definition of regret.

She's gawking at them so with a grumble, I turn off the tap, grab a mug from the coffee machine (and a water because whether he wants it or not, Ed needs it) and then do my job.

Carlisle's smiling again, dressed in cleaner track suits and a white top. He's planning to run to work then too, goddamn him being so healthy.

'Busy huh?'

'It's not too bad anymore,' I admit. 'You hungry?'

He doesn't always eat here but I like it when he does because it means I get to sit down for three minutes. Tilly's standing around looking like a useless tea bag, gawking at him (not that he's noticed but then he never does). See? He's not busy now and he hasn't noticed her! Blahh blahh blah ' _I don't have hormones because I'm such an introvert_ ', stupid Flatmates….

He looks like he's about to decline but sees me nodding at him and changes his mind.

'Sure? Err. What do you recommend?'

He normally goes for a granola bar but because he hasn't had the five minutes decision time, he's thrown.

'If you buy a cake then I'll get to steal some.' I.e. buy me some cake please, I hurt myself and I'm wallowing in self pity

I grin widely as a persuasion but he doesn't need persuading. He looks to Edward who violently shakes his head in decline, he can't stomach anything yet then. Good. Serves him right for vomiting everywhere.

'What do I owe you?' he asks pulling out the brown leather wallet.

I put in the staff discount, not giving a shit if my boss is watching me like he's been doing since 10 this morning.

'A year's tuition and the rent?'

'Short again are we?'

He doesn't look at me when he smiles but he's seen the number on the till and is already pulling out the appropriate notes. I know we're overpriced, he knows we're overpriced, we both know it makes no sense for him to buy coffee here, especially when he never drinks all of it, but here we are.

'No more than usual.' I sigh, handing him his change 'I'll bring it over in a sec.'

He smiles, passes Edward his water and takes a seat near the open window, hidden away from my boss's view. Thank fuck.

Tilly is hanging around still and because my arm, my thigh and my vagina hurt (even though the last isn't her fault) I decide to say fuck her and take the order over myself, normally something I get her to do. Her obsessive eyes are annoying me.

Goddamn the Saint.

'How's the hangover?' I ask Edward. He smiles weakly before giving me a false thumbs up and then replacing his head against the table with a thump.

I immediately start to pick apart Cullen's food and eat it. I'm hungry and so fed up of working with eyes constantly on me that I'm wondering why on earth I didn't just apply to work in an office full time?

The answer is university and as always, the money…

'Who's wound you up this time?' He asks watching me curiously. I like how he's keeping me hidden from view without even thinking about it. His posture is natural.

'Everybody.' I say smiling. He smirks and takes a sip of his drink before frowning.

'It's mint, I thought you'd like it.'

Edward's the one I normally experiment with because Carlisle is so straightforward but after yesterday, I'm starting to think I've judged him too quickly. Everything about him is gleamingly pure so a shot of peppermint in his coffee only ties in his whole look. Alice would be proud.

'Yeah, yeah it's good.' he twists his hand around so I can see Tilly's handwriting on the cup.

Oh _grow_ up!

'Sorry, she's new.' Why am I defending her? The bitch technically burnt me?!

'No, no. Her numbers changed. Last time it was ending in 04 now it's 08.' He shakes the thought away and takes another gulp from the cup. He seems to be liking it. But then I am a coffee genius.

Wait?! What did he just say?!

'You have her number?' I don't recognise the tone in my voice. I'm channelling confusion but that's not what I can hear.

'Well, no but I remember it,' he says shrugging, blowing delicately so the steam of his drink floats my way. Mmm…

'And the time before that, and the time before that and the-'

'Alright Edward we get the picture….' Why do I sound so weird? If Tilly is asking for his number then it's giving him a chance to man up and fuck up. In the right manner of course. As in get laid. Good for him! ...yay?

'She's pretty innocent…' I say, chewing on a bit of flapjack. 'Your type,' I add with a grin. A pretend grin. Fuck her.

He throws a bit of food at me, smiling. Edward is taking a thoughtful sip of his water, agreeing with my comment but not letting Carlisle see.

I scratch the burn on my leg reminding myself to take my trousers off and check it later because it's bugging me. Fatso is watching me and I can't sink any lower in my seat. He's going to come over in a moment so I pretend to be gathering the empty cups on the tray.

'I'm not finished with that!' Carlisle says laughing. I pass his drink back to him, sticking my tongue out.

'Is he staring at me?' I ask tentatively. It's nicer to have my back to the till, it means I can ignore my job for the moment.

'He _was_ staring at your chest, earlier.' Edward says shrugging.

I groan because that fucking sucks, especially when confirmed by someone else.

'Can you see my bra?' I ask with a grimace.

Edward turns his head towards me, debating, Carlisle has done the opposite and turned further away from me. I'm guessing the underwear thing scarred him a little.

'Not unless you're _really_ staring.' Edward confirms.

Well why the fuck is my boss looking at me then?! Leave me alone!

'Well, your cardigan is only at home, I'll drop it off before work if you want?' Carlisle offers, always the gentleman though I'm definitely no Lady.

Both I and Edward are extreme luckily that he's so observant. He's genuinely too nice to us.

'Would you mind?' I ask, gratefully. I'm vaguely aware he's starting to sound like my bitch.

He smiles but the smile drops when he sees something I don't want to acknowledge. I can feel the walrus behind me I didn't need their warning looks….

'Esme, don't you think you should be getting back to work? Leave these _gentleman_ alone.'

Edward laughs under his breath but the jokes on him because at least I don't look like shit.

'Yes, sir!' I cheer enthusiastically. Edward laughs more, Carlisle gulps acting like the other side of my conscience.

He's standing far too close to me when I walk back to the counter to help serve and I'm unnaturally aware of the curse of a big chest. So I reluctantly go back to work and luckily, it's too busy for me to engage in awkward conversation with my stalker/ employer.


	6. Reasons why I hate my job

_**Thank you for all the lovely reviews! I hope you keep them coming :D**_

 _ **This chapter is a little heavy and involves the suggestion of some dark themes. Read at own risk.**_

* * *

It's pretty crappy not having my back-up crew to keep watch over me 24/7 but then unlike somepeople, I actually don't mind putting in a bit of effort in order to get a paycheck so while the co-workers chill out, I busy myself in pointless jobs that don't really need doing. Tilly is still hanging around me like a lost pigeon (wonky eyes and all), and she has yet to apologise for scolding me. I use her shyness to my advantage and decide not to give her any sort of hint about the cup and the fact she graffitied it with her digits.

'They're very polite. Not a lot of guys like that around…' She says randomly, perched by the counter and looking wistfully off into the window like some sort of maiden potrait.

It's a roundabout way of saying I don't deserve to be living with them. Which is half true because when Carlisle cleans, the house is heaven, when Edward does it, he does it wrong and I lose my temper.

'Nope.' I mutter, taking over in the work she is neglecting.

'And so charming!' She sighs, practically grinding against the very counter top I have just disinfected.

'Yep.'

Pffft, ' _charming_ ' until one of them has to come get a prescription with you! Then he doesn't know what ' _private_ ' means. Stupid child pharmacist.

I'm cleaning the coffee machine when she starts up again, her teeth sinking into her lip and curling a finger through her hair as if she is flirting with his very apparition.

'He's so thoughtful too- buying breakfast. A man with an appetite.'

He couldn't have an appetite if we starved him for days. Cullen ate what was good for him, he rarely relinquished that element of self-control. I've tried to copy in his Saint steps but it's hard. I like junk food. A LOT.

'Uh-huh.'

In trying to shut her up with my clanging about, I accidently graze my welted arm on the machine and have to stop myself from crying out. She hasn't even noticed. Stupid limbs and piercings getting in the way of my happiness and my weekend.

'He's quite shy though. Isn't he?'

See! I'm not an idiot! He _is_ shy!

'Well…' I say with a thoughtful shrug. To be honest, I don't really like the idea of giving anything away, especially when my arm is inflammed to hell because of her and she hasn't even got the decency to bat her lashes in my direction.

'You never see him with a girl, either….'

Finally, I stop what I'm doing to look at her. She's day dreaming, watching the light, thinking sweet thoughts and pouting. Ha.

'Oh, I don't know about that….' I sing playfully, shrugging slightly. Careful, Esme...

She doesn't catch on just yet but that's fine. I'm enjoying my little , that's not like me. I should be helping the guy out. He certainly helps me out enough….

...Ahh but he can do so much better than Tilly. Especially when he is so sweet.

'He looks so tired! They really do work them to death up there, don't they?!'She accuses, frowning as if I'm to blame for it all.

She's getting on my nerves. Sure, they're understaffed but come on! Work them to death? In a hospital? Of _course_ , they prefer all their staff to be useless corpses! Fucking bimbo...

This time, I make sure she hears me this time by keeping my voice louder than the curses under my breath.

'Well,' I say with a deliberately teasing voice. 'He was up _really_ late last night.'

It's hardly a lie and it catches her attention perfectly. In a flash, her innocent look of purity has turned to jealousy and she's on her knees beside where I'm clearing out the cabinet in a second.

'He was?'

Any information I give her, she hangs onto like a life source.

'Oh _yeah_ , sounded like he had a girl in his room, too!' I say, still fiddling about with various tins of coffee. 'From what I heard, they were having _quite_ the night.'

I sneak another look at her face. Hahahahahahhahahahaha, I'm a goddamn genius.

'What were they doing?!' she demands, gripping onto me and ONTO MY FUCKING BURN. The heck is wrong with her?! I unclasp her hand with one of mine,hide the growl and manipulate it into a sigh as I push her back. She's practically stealing my oxygen she's so close to my face.

Time to really piss her off.

'All I know is that she wasn't wearing a lot of clothes this morning…pretty hot too, if you ask me…'

It's a real struggle not to self-five myself at the moment because despite the physically pain I'm in, this shit is hilarious.

'But…but he's _so_ innocent!'

Tell me about it, face full of vagina last night and was he interested? Was he heck!

It's weird that I'm now starting to sound like I was dissatisfied with his service. Which I'm not. I'm super relieved he was in Doctor Mode last night…it would've been weird if not…

'Who's innocent?'

The change in voice makes us both jump, mainly because I'm trying to eradicate the weird argument I'm having with myself. Cullen is leaning over the very counter Tilly was grinding against (gross), watching me throw crap back into the shelves beneath where I've just hit my head. Luckily, I've managed to escape unscathed. For once.

He's laughing joyously and for some weird reason, I feel myself grow colourful all over. I work in a coffee shop… it's got to be the heat?

'Err,' I say, looking at Tilly who is frozen with a besotted grin on her face. Oh go shoot yourself. 'You…' I confess.

He lifts a blonde eyebrow intrigued, clearly he thinks I'm joking.

'I've got your cardigan.' He says, holding it up as an indication. We meet behind the back, so I can put it on followed by the apron which he remembered and I didn't. See what I mean? Sickly sweet sometimes.

He holds out the arms for me so I can fit into it easily.

'All better?' I ask, pulling the sides out. Stupid, tight fitting top loosing me my dignity.

He knows what I'm on about and politely nods though he's barely given them a glance or if he has, I haven't spotted it. For fuck sake, they're just boobs, they're not going to hurt you.

Tilly is staring at me, green with envy before taking a careful step forward so that our double act becomes an awkward three. It's only a good three when Edward's the third and he's not vomiting.

'Thank you for the cup.' He says, a gentle smile as he addresses her. She jumps to conclusions and doesn't spot him wringing his hands behind his back. He's totally thinking of a nice way to let her down.

'I wasn't sure if you got my other note…' She says shyly, making her eyes wider so that she looks like a freak. She looks like a freak anyway. It's impossible not to laugh at her. What a tool.

But because I'm not needed, I leave him to flounder and return to work, making sure I'm still in earshot of the entertainment.

'I was thinking we could met up? Get to know each other maybe?' She says, trying to make her voice all seductive too. Ha.

You've got no hope!

'That would be….' He begins delicately.

Don't say nice, I warn him…but he's not telepathic…and neither am I...

It's easy to picture his cheeks colouring at the very thought, panicked ocean eyes on my back as he desperately wishes I'd rescue him. Haha, not tonight my friend.

'Good.' He says awkwardly. GOOD?! WHAT?! 'But…err…' Panic over, I thought he actually meant it then.

'I'm not worried about the girl you were with last night,' she says abruptly, panicking and offering any kind of words as sacrifice for his attention.

Fuck, thanks Tilly.

But I decide I can't help but watch him now. He's so red in the face and the neck and the ears, it is adorable…Err, as in adorable to watch him look like such a freak!

'What?' He asks. I know he's glaring at me, panicking about what I could've said to her.

Goddamn it Tilly, leave me out of it!

'Esme told me about the girl in your bed this morning.' She sounds like a child; confessing her sins as easy as if she was vomiting.

I let my shoulders fall. At least it was fun while it lasted.

'Did she, now?'At least he sounds more humoured than annoyed. His voice is challenging, I kinda like it.

Wait, what? Not like ' _like'_ , as in I'm proud he's becoming less of a pussy, I didn't mean I found it arousing or anything?! Okay, ew. Why the heck did I just put arousing and Cullen in the same sentence together?! Ew- no! Just… Just shut up, serve the people, make the coffee…Stop talking to yourself...

'Well, I'm assuming that's quite over with now…' He says gently, hooded blue eyes downcast to his trainers, a delicate side smile on his lip.

Assuming huh?

Wait! Is this a threat to say I can't stay in his bed anymore? Surely not? He's most probably just trying to wind me up. He's attempting to play the same game I've played with him for years… Or tried to play. You can't play a game when your only opponent is the pearly gates of heaven.

'Oh? Really?' Oh _shut up Tilly,_ you're ruining the fun.

'Are you free Friday?' he asks, leaning against the till door like some kinda cool bad boy, hands in his pockets.

Excuse me?!- What the fuck?!

In four years, _four years_ , he says nothing remotely suggestive to a girl, I say one tiny thing about being gay and all of the sudden he's discovered his libido.

What?!

I'm meant to be ignoring him and letting him have his fun but I just have to see what he's thinking. He's got the usual smile on his face though as he turns to look at me, he _winks_. I don't really know what to do. This is so un-Cullen like. Even worse than yesterday.

 _Winking_?!

Huh? Maybe my vagina was just so delightful he's super excited to go meet girls! I gave him the gift of arousal!

…That's a weird thing to think….

'Yes!' She breathes quite literally all over him but he keeps a decent amount of space there.

'Cool, we could all go. Es?'

HOLY SHIT, NERD-BOY. DON'T DO THAT! I thought I was going mad! Panic is over. He's not flirting, he's being nice…

'I'll see if Alice is free!' I say, grinning.

'Oh? Yeah- yeah that sounds good.' Tilly says, frowning but when he looks at her she turns to smiling again, drinking him all in.

He's partly watching me maybe trying to read what I'm thinking but I'm not thinking about much, I wrap the cardigan around me that little tighter for something to do. It smells like our washing powder and his cologne. Familiar, comforting and warm.

With a cough to announce his entrance, I realise my boss is hanging around again.

'You've gotta leave before you get me fired…' I mutter to Cullen, kicking him out of the back, with a playful kind of reproach.

He pokes out a pink tongue, tightens the bag on his shoulder and salutes me off, his blonde hair gleaming in the crappy lighting of the shop. Even I'm thrown for the minute. He's acting so weird?! Being so... pretty and all? Huh, strange the things you notice.

'Cullen!' I yell, as he reaches the door. He turns and mid-air grasps the water bottle I throw at him, he catches it easily without needing to watch his movement and flashes those perfect teeth before waving goodbye. Huh, cute...

* * *

Things calm a little once he's gone. Tilly leaves me alone, my arm hurts and I have no food but with what little change is in my purse, I pay for the bottle of water I chucked at him then it's back to rushing around on my feet again.

My boss calls me into his office at the end of the day. I panic. He says I look stressed. Let me tell you this; _oh shit_. I know where this is going and I know I won't be able to get out of it. Fuck my fucking flawless body...Well, it's not flawless, but fuck it anyway. Maybe not literally. Definitely not if you've got a piercing. No. No, no, no. You can do one in that case…never again...

Anyway, he offers me his number in case I ' _need someone to talk to_ '. I try to refuse it, he insists. He instructs me closer and because the money in this place is really _really_ good, I follow. He hands me the piece of paper.

'Thanks,' I'm trying not to sound rude but fucking hell. Really?! Just leave me alone!

'Even if you're lonely.' He says, smiling. He smells like cigarettes and disappointment. He's not even slightly hot, he wouldn't be if I was blind.

I'm not really the chatty type but I don't want to lose my job.

'Thanks.' I repeat.

'Anytime.' He emphasises every syllable… And then he lets his flipper fall on my thigh.

I'm momentarily grateful I've had a shit weekend and have been burnt. But like I say…momentarily….in which this case means for a second before I feel the weight of his hand linger on the pain.

Cursing, I jump away from him at speed and grab my pained leg. He looks a little angry, like he is going to fire me….

'Tilly split coffee on me!' I whine, in attempt to save my job and me, this guy is more bipolar than the word itself.

…Oh shit. Either I definitely drank too much alcohol yesterday that I'm still really inebriated or I'm a complete twit because I'm suddenly aware that he's the only one present that's first aid trained….

I throw my hand to the door knob and open it slightly. He's standing up now. Looking large…too large. Shiiiiiiiit...

'That's not good…' Says the fat-guy, fighting a grin.

Not good. Really not good. Nothing about this situation is good.

'No, it's not…' I agree.

'I could take a look at it if you want?' He offers.

So now my brain is thinking.

I'm thinking fuck. But I'm also thinking that ,if I'm quick enough, if he comes near me, I could fight him off…but there's a really big problem with that.

When I say the job is good money, I'm not flouncing about being an idiot. I mean that out of all the jobs I do, if I lose this one, the other few can't support me. I will be forever poor. Poorer than I am now and right out of college…alone… and in loads of debt…left to die…. _shit_.

His sweaty face lights up a little when I don't move because he can take this as confirmation. And because I'm really fucking stupid, my brain starts thinking again: Maybe I was too harsh on him earlier…?

Sure. He _is_ overweight. But maybe he was _once_ quite handsome. His hair is greying but there's still quite a bit there. He's in his 50's but maybe if you squint, he can look a little younger. Not a vile face. Foul sure, but a capable kind of foul.

The fact he is married is making me feel sick but I am so dependent on this shitty little coffee shop...

'It's fine. I'll get someone to look at it later.' I say awkwardly, the words quiet enough that he could probably pretend to ignore them and get away with it. He pauses.

'Your gentleman friend? The doctor one?' He's making his voice quiet, whispering softly like a threat. It is successful in creeping me out.

'Urm, yeah maybe…' Although he's definitely seen enough of my body than necessary. I didn't want to kill the poor guy.

My boss narrows his expression and like a puppet on a piece of string, I move.

'Or not, he's working.' I add. Why do I add that?! It's only going to screw me over.

The doctor title is there for a reason, Esme. Worst case scenario, if it is bad, I just go to the hospital… he wouldn't mind? He probably recommend it. I take a look at my wrist. It's blistered, and very pink…I could probably get away with not going to the hospital. It would only freak him out.

My boss holds his hand out to me to place my leg into it. It's a weird move but judging by his temper I don't want to _not_ follow his instructions…. He flexes his fingers impatiently so I drop my leg into it, holding my breath.

His hands are sweaty and warm on the back of my thigh and I can feel the tips of his fingers moving closer to my intimately sore area.

Now I know I started this saying that sex is great and so far everything that's happened has shat on that theory meaning you shouldn't listen to me… but let me just say this as a bit of advice; don't be like me.

So he brings my knee up to rest against his crotch, hand against the trouser material, squeezing the back of it as if judging the weight. It's almost like the end of a tango but my head and neck are obviously not thrown back in an image of pure ecstasy. I'm still holding my breath.

This is the part where I advise; follow my words **_NOT_ ** my example.

'I can't help you if I can't see anything….' He grins, coming closer so that my knee is now not just resting against his area but actively held under it as if to tease himself.

Now a shiver runs from the top of my head right into the bones of my ankles. I don't move. He's already got my leg.

And because your brain does stupid things when you're panicking, the only I can think, even when his fat fingers break open my trouser button and slowly pull the leg down, is that my thigh is really fat. _Really_ fat and it makes me feel sick.

Sicker than before…sicker than the gold wedding band on his finger reminding me I'm a shitty person, sicker than his sweaty face.

His breathing gets louder, too obnoxious, and as he tightens the grip of thigh, I notice he's very obviously excited.

All I can feel is dread.

Now, you may remember me running cold water over my wrist and that's still come up in blisters on top of blisters. I physically couldn't do the same to my thigh and so the burn there is horrific and I mean _horrific_. I take one look at it and the breath I've been holding falls out in a panic.

I gag from the sheer sight of it and the pain, _the pain,_ is on a whole incomprehensible level.

And the award for the biggest regret of the weekend goes to my choice of underwear. The uniform is tight and because it's tight in both shirt and trousers, the trousers pinch at your arse making it impossible to wear anything comfortable. So I don't go for comfort because I'm a fool, _I_ go for racy and lacy.

I hate myself.

He looks like he's about to dribble, he's ignoring my marked skin and focusing on the red G string, eating it all up with his eyes, getting fatter with lust.

Shiiiiiiiiit.

By the grace of God, (as Carlisle would say) or the skin of my teeth or every lucky star that exists, my phone rings loudly, freezing both of us until I snap out of my secondary panic of panic , pinch it from my back pocket and hold it to my ear.

This gives me my biggest and best chance. I strike while the iron is hot which means, I speedily turn away and fix my trousers as quick as possible with no complaint of the wounds I've been exhibiting since lunch.

 _'Hiya Babe. We need to ask a huge favour!'_

It's Mrs Walderman from across the road and even though I'm 23 years of age, to hear the voice of an adult _adult_ is every bit of heaven to my hell.

'Is everything alright?' It's funny how when you're the one who's frightened, all you do is ask the questions that you need people to ask you.

' _Of course, Hon. We were just wondering if you'd maybe be able to watch the kids tonight. We're late back from the airport and mother has got other commitments._ '

I check my watch. It's late. Very late, I've been working for 12+ hours. Their youngest will be in bed already.

'As in stay over?' I've done it before, but usually I didn't have class the next day.

' _If that's okay? We'll be back by 6am?_ '

I suddenly decide that I need the money, (in case in a turn of events the man in front fires my ass) and that I will do anything to leave at the moment.

'Yeah, yeah, that's no problem. When do I have to be there?'

' _Well, mother can stay for another hour or so, as long as you're there before twelve really. It's just to make sure someone's there if they wake up._ '

I turn away from my boss, whose looking amused at me, rush to the staff room and grab my bag as if the call I'm taking is incredibly urgent. I'm a good enough actor that this doesn't need questioning. Besides, he can't hear what they answer.

'Bye my little Brown-eyes!' He says when I point to the car lot as if to show that I need to leave. His voice is sickly.

I hate pet names.

'That's no problem!' I answer to the Waldermans, waving quickly, jumping in the car and locking all the doors twice over.

I know for a fact that whatever I did, it was the wrong move and it'll land me in more crap at some other point. Yet I have never been more relieved to be on my way home, even if it means late night baby-sitting.


	7. Reasons why trauma makes you crazy

**_Here's a lengthy chapter for you all- I hope you enjoy. Paitence is a virtue, all will come to a head in the long run :)_**

 ** _Thanks for all your support and I will be ever so grateful if you continue to share the love and post your thoughts ;) Thank you!_**

* * *

When I get home after a crappy and thoughtful drive Edward is resting on the sofa breathing softly. He's looking grumpy but I put that down to the hangover and the fact he hasn't trusted himself to eat anything yet.

My keys and the bag are launched to the coffee table so that the noise accidently wakes him. I fall onto the space next to him, throwing my legs over his and trying to stay quiet when the material pulls against the mess of my thigh . His green eyes watch me carefully.

'Long day?'

'And a half,' I add, yawning. And it's not even over yet. Great.

He nods before noticing my wrist, then the nodding stops. His eyes enlarge and he looks like he's about to shriek.

'What the heck happened?!'

'Huh?' I look down to arm. It looks bad, _really_ bad but then it's nowhere near as bad as my thigh so I don't really have room for complaint. I don't say that to him. 'Oh, I burnt it…'

In fairness, he's never been good around blood and stuff, but it really annoys me when his whole posture goes rigid and he tries awkwardly to lean away from me, taking the comfort of his company with him.

'What with: lava?!'

'Don't be so dramatic!' I chide, flicking out the arm to expose the mess more clearly under the light. Even I shudder this time. 'Look, it's just a blister.'

'Yeurgh! Don't come anywhere near me with that infected shit!' He yelps hysterically, ripping his legs from under me and practically leaping over the sofa arm like I'm some sort of rabid animal.

This is how I know whatever happened in the coffee shop has really fucked me up.

Edward's only joking (kind of) and yet I genuinely have to fight back tears. I never cry and yet here I sit, holding in the Mariana Trench behind my 'brown' eyes... (EW), all the while he looks disgustedly down at me. Though that disgust snaps to concern when he realises my glum expression.

'Es?' He's as confused as I am. But he knows for some dumb reason the words have upset me. Upset _me?!_ What the hell?! They're just words! Jeeez, you would've thought I'd been drugged or something. Edward upset me? The fuck?

''M sorry,' he says, gently placing an arm on my shoulder. I automatically flinch and we both look at each other, me watery eyed, and him alarmed.

'I'm in a lot of pain,' I lie, indicating my hand. But is it a lie? My chest hurts like hell right now so does my insides and my wrist and my fat-arse thigh. And yet again my sense of dignity, too.

His rigid posture loosens up and he nudges his broad shoulders against my petite one to get me to look at him.

'Why don't we just go to the hospital? Get him to check it out?' He coaxes gently, still keeping a watchful eye for whatever unpredicted move I'm going to pull next.

You don't even need to guess who he's talking about. It's the first person the both of us run to in an instant of total shit. He's pretty much our guardian. But I've already demanded a little too much of him today, I'd imagine he'd be pretty much sick of my face by now.

I grimace. 'Nah, I hate bugging him at work. You know how stressed he gets when he sees us there.'

It's like fire meets gasoline at the local children's orphanage.

'Only because he worries, you know what he's like. Come on, let's go,' he knees me so that my legs rise up gently. 'Come on.'

I groan but, because he'll be a little bitch otherwise, begrudingly follow.

* * *

Because Edward's a wimp and acted so dramatically about the arm, I decide not to mention the whole loss-of-skin on my thigh, so the car drive is silent apart from my coughing exhaust pipe and groaning wheels. He mentions about getting Rosalie to fix it up if I ask Emmett but A: Blondie and I aren't exactly BFF's, B: I can't afford it and C: I love my car, broken bits and all. Even if it does turn a five minute journey into a twenty-minute one.

I'm right by the way. Carlisle is fine _until_ he sees us.

He's in a group of other doctors, but he looks the tallest and the smartest, dressed in easy green scrubs, his long white jacket filled with the contents of a stationary factory and dirtied grey trainers instead of his suit and shoes (there's an issue there but I'm sure he'll address it later). He's holding a clipboard, listening to another student question the patient and offering a better diagnosis without being critical. It's quite impressive. Just how he can focus so easily and put anyone at ease without even looking at them.

But judging from Tilly, he had that kind of effect on a few people. Me included.

He casually looks across to see the time above the wall just by where me and Edward are cringing and his relaxed face turns first to confusion then to real worry. He's as white as a ghost and looks like he's going to faint as the clatter of his clipboard dropping to the floor sounds out. Hastily, he reaches to pick it up before staring open-mouthed at us until his attention is called away again.

I'm feeling really weird this evening so the first thing I do when I see him is look away and head to the front desk. Part of me was hoping he'd be in surgery today, damn!

'Oooh! That's a nasty burn!' The receptionist notes, nodding at the welted mess. She hands me some forms to fill out and we go sit in the waiting area, arguing on my handwriting and various other pointless things.

Because it's just a burn, I'm hoping they'll just get a nurse to fix me up and while me and Edward wait, Cullen uses every moments pause to catch a look at us. I'm hiding in my hair, dreading his concern.

'Miss Platt?' A nurse says, smiling joyfully when she sees me stand up. Edward follows behind like a guard dog but he's stopped at the curtain and told to sit back down. It's not like the guy likes blood anyway so he nods sceptically and takes a seat offering me an encouraging smile. I take it.

'I'll be fine!' I lie, panicking about how much pain I'm going to be in and if it's going to be worse than yesterday. Which is an obvious yes.

I sit uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, feeling somewhat nervous though I'm not really sure why… probably just fearing his judgement...which is dumb as hell but I'm feeling pretty crappy at this time.

'Ooooh, that's a nasty burn isn't it!' The nurse says kindly, fussing around with the blood pressure thingy and squeezing my arm to death.

If it's really that noticeable than why was my co-worker such a dick about it?!

'Uh-yeah.' I say, embarrassed, holding it up like a limp twig. She's a nice lady, older and reminds me a little of my mom…if my mom was 30 years older, brunette and actually remembered who I was.

'Oh, Dear!' she sighs, sympathetically, stroking the part of my arm that isn't burning.

I think I smile but it feels more like a fidget in the face.

'Yes, I'll definitely have to get a doctor to check this over for you.'

Argh, shit. I don't need to give the guy a heart attack.

'Would you mind if the students come and observe?' she continues.

Yes, yes I would mind a LOT. That is the type of shit no one ever wants to agree with, just fix me up and chuck me out.

'No, of course not.'

It takes a second or so for me to realise that these were my words and not her randomly talking to herself… FANTASTIC.

She pops out for a bit while I panic about how on earth I'm going to cover this crap up and with what excuse to avoid judgement. An older guy throws back the curtain followed by three random people and Carlisle. When I first look at him, he looks really jittery but when he turns to the side I realise he's freaking out again.

'Any volunteers?' The old guy asks the group. He's got a nice blue tie on which softens his stern looking face. I like that tie.

Cullen coughs and raises his hand, delicately, his pink ears sitting in stark contrast to his light hair and lighter skin.

I told Edward he would freak out when he saw us! My actions aren't helping either. Ridiculously, when he offers the blue eyes of wonder, I give him a quick hand wave that he doesn't address properly. That makes me feel great. Thanks.

' _Really_ Doctor Cullen? Surely you've had enough of the frontline for today?'

'Not at all!' he says quickly. I'm genuinely grateful because if he's being so eager to jump in then he's trying to make it an easy situation for all of us by not letting the bunch of 12 year olds falsely diagnose me.

The old guy, I can't read his name badge, chuckles to himself and gives him the go ahead.

'Hi…' I greet shyly.

'Miss Platt.' He's so professional that I have to crack a smile even if he can't.

He asks all the right questions before spotting my arm, he's gone a little white again (he'll be translucent in a minute) though I don't know why because I'm always doing stupid shit like hurting myself.

'What happened?!' His voice sounds funny and then he realises we aren't alone like we were yesterday and coughs to clear it. 'Err, I mean how did you burn your wrist?'

I haven't and I won't mention about the thigh.

'At work.' I say quickly. This gives him three choices. The oven, the kettle or the coffee machine, let's see what one he picks! His blue eyes flit to the group and then back to me. They soften slightly when I smile.

'Coffee?' He can smell its bitter sting because I can still smell it, that and the area of skin has kind of tanned a little.

'Yep!' Ding, ding, ding. He's fighting the urge to roll his eyes but smiles sympathetically and asks to take a closer look like the professional he is.

It doesn't take two moments for him to diagnose that the burn is mainly 1st with some 2nd degree and how to deal with that appropriately. His mentor is watching him just as proudly.

'Okay team, that's enough for today. Leave that to the nurses, Cullen.' The man says, dismissing the other tired freshmen and clapping a hand on Carlisle's shoulder.

'No worries, Sir. I can finish up here.' He smiles sheepishly and the man watches the both of us sceptically. He probably recognises who I am, I've been in here enough times, and is no doubt worrying over the legalities of him acting as my medical suitor.

'Are you sure? You've had a long day.'

The old guy seems nice but I know what he's thinking. He thinks we're more than flatmates and that something weird is going to happen behind the cubicle curtain. Pfft, hardly. At times, we're barely even flatmates and I'm sure he'd agree when I say he wouldn't voluntarily go anywhere near me and vice versa in terms of romance and/or attraction. Yuck… Maybe yuck? Like a gentle yuck.

He smiles tightly.

'No, I insist.' Thank God, here's to hoping he grabs some sort of morphine to knock me out of it all.

'Hmm,' the voice is testing but still kind. 'More fool you…'

My tight lipped flatmate releases a tight lipped smile. Until the curtain closes of course, then I get a mouthful. _What the hell happened?! Why didn't you come in sooner! Are you okay?!..._ And all that stuff. He's frowning so hard, his face his going to break.

'Ahh, ask your _girl_ friend.' That same weird tone from earlier has returned. Pffft, barely girlfriend if the only date he'll be having with her is a family drinking session.

He softens his expression again and raises an eyebrow, refusing to rise to my bait.

'She spilt it on me earlier.' I explain with an awkward shrug.

He sighs and shakes his head at me before holding his hand out for my arm and getting down to work fast and smooth without any pain surprisingly. His hands are so gentle I don't feel them move…A lot like yesterday really.

'Did you burn anywhere else?'

Okay, now I totally give it all away in wondering how the hell he worked that one out .

'How'd you _know_?'

Oh. Okay. Looking at his face he didn't...great.

'Liquid splashes.' He shrugs. 'Where else are you hurt?'

I grimace.

Not only do I not want to tell him but to repeat, I chose the wrong kind of underwear today. I know that it doesn't really bother him since I shoved myself in his face yesterday but now he's confirmed that not only does he have an interest in girls (fuck ugly ones), but that's he's also able to act on that interest…things are weird…

'I don't want to tell you.' I'm such a child.

'Why?' He asks curiously.

'It's embarrassing.' I mumble back, hiding once again in my fringe.

He sighs and raises his eyebrow again. It's very persuasive…

'More so then yesterday?' He asks challengingly. Normally he's more impersonal and a lot more polite. I'm starting to wonder how bad this 'bad day' was for him.

Though he has a point.

So I willingly unbutton my trousers and he's nice enough to not even look at my underwear, his eyes go straight to the burn but that's only once I tell him he can turn back around.

'Jesus, girl. Why didn't you say anything?' His voice is softer than feathers, he's worried how much pain I'm in which is surprisingly zero considering how I'm still kind of worked up about whether I still have my job and what I need to do to keep it.

I shudder.

'Cold?'

'Err, no just…' The thought of explaining sounds just as painful '...Yeah. Yeah I'm cold...' I sigh because it is partly true. He shrugs out of his doctor's jacket and lets it rest on my shoulders. It doesn't do a lot in terms of heat but the gesture is nice enough that I start to relax a little. Especially with our washing powder flooding my nostrils.

He leaves for a second or so to get a tiny little trolley table and a seat and then asks for my permission to treat me. He asks for my permission?

He frowns like he does when he's working or at least when he's working on me and delicately glides his rubbery hands over the area.

'Why do I always end up around here?' he murmurs to my thigh. I laugh because it is genuinely funny.

'So, what happened then?' I'm watching his face, its super entertaining and it's taking away from whatever pain is left.

'Had to perform a tracheotomy on 2 year old.'

'Oh God,' I gasp. He appreciates the gesture. 'Was she okay?!'

' _He_ was fine…eventually.'

I don't really know what to do so I just pat his shoulder. I'm the least comforting person I know.

'We also nearly killed a middle aged lawyer.' He complains, his cooling breath nicely wiping over the burn. When he says _'we_ ' he means _'they_ ' but he's too much of a good person to abandon the sinking ship of blame.

''Nearly'. Not quite.' I say.

He looks out of the corner of his eye to find me smiling and copies.

'No but she did go in a coma for three minutes. We're luckily she's not brain dead.'

His tough day at work is making my day look like kids games. I don't know how to fix this.

'I got someone's number today…' I say delicately, wanting to hear him say anything because his woeful expression is making me feel even worse. That's the one thing about having perfect teeth, it makes his whole grin gorgeous.

This has him smiling, mainly because he suspects it. He and Edward sometimes take bets over how many numbers I can get in a day. My winner was six.

'Well done you.' He says brightly. 'You can't act on it for 13 days.'

'I'm planning on _not_ acting on it.' I retort with a sigh. It super easy to forget how easy it is to talk to him and forget the fact that I'm this ridiculous shit of a human.

This causes interest. He looks up to me with a puzzled look.

'Anyway, I can go 13 days without sex _easy_ considering you've gone 20-odd years.'

He chuckles and the sound does wonders for his mood. 'Well, no one is going to be having sex at eight, are they?'

True.

'Anyway, who's the unlucky guy?'

The words sound potentially harsh but I know he means unlucky because I plan to not give him the sex he wants. Whether he actually gets it though is a different matter…

'My boss…' I mutter silently.

He closes his eyes and sighs loudly.

'Shit, I'm sorry.' He doesn't swear a lot because he _is_ a saint but it's comforting that he recognises that this is the kinda language I'm needing at the moment.

I'm completely undeserving of his sympathy. He talks with no judgement for me when surely after two bosses now on my tail I've got to be doing something wrong.

I'm starting to wonder what'll happen if I tell him about the trouser/underwear thing... but that's too far and did anything bad happen? Maybe I'm overreacting? I just want to forget about it. Pretend it never happened.

'What are you going to do?' He asks, focus on the task at hand.

I sigh with no complaint as he wraps my thigh for me and then my wrist.

'What do you think I should do?' He's the smart guy, he'll know best.

'Maybe find another coffee shop?'

Well that's out the question… Stupid boss ruining my job, giving me pet names I don't want. Eurgh!

'What colour are my eyes?' I ask suddenly. I don't want a pet name and if it's a pet name stuck on something I can't change then I'm really in the shit.

'You don't know after 23 years?'

'Well I can't exactly look at myself to check, can I?'

Realistically, I could just use a mirror. However when looking in the mirror, about 98% of the time I'm distracted in seeing what my hair looks like to even focus on whether I have eyes let alone the colour.

He doesn't even look up when he answers, he keeps his eyes and hands on my blistered skin.

'Forest colour, why?'

I'm mildly surprised he doesn't doubt himself.

'That's hardly an answer!' I whine.

'You're the artist!' He's muttering about second degree burns….

'Well, what kind of forest? In what season?'

He raises his eyebrow but still doesn't look up, maybe as a test to himself. I'm not sure.

'They're mainly green with flecks of mud brown.' He tells me. Okay…I was not expecting that…

'What kind of green?' I persist. This is a test now, mainly because I can't tell myself.

He's laughing, still focused on his work. 'A lighter murky green when you're in the sun but a darker woodland green when you're either focused or stressed.'

Do I now that much about his eye colour? I can't imagine so….

'Murky is hardly a colour…'I say, watching his face.

He sits up and finally looks at me, squinting slightly. 'Would you like to see?'

He's scrutinising my eyes now and probably the inflamed skin around them, checking them again to confirm himself. I don't ask what colour they are now. And so I tell him I don't need the mirror he's offering, he's observant enough that to get something wrong is unlike him and to disbelieve him is foolish.

'Are you okay?' He asks slowly, words dropping with concern I don't want to think about.

My stomach tightens into tight,mcinstrauned knots and I deliberately do my best to act impatient to my leg.

'I'd be so much better had I not been scolded.' I dismiss cleverly. He takes his cue and quickly returns to easing my pain.

Let's say this; I am more than relieved they're not just brown. I'm also kinda fascinated he knew this without looking at my eyes to check. I want to test him on everyone else's eye colour but now isn't the time.

'You're good to go.' He moves his chair from me like he did last night and turns away from me so I can pull the rest of my trousers up without being watched.

'Thank you.' It sucks that this is a regular thing for him, touching me in places he doesn't want to touch.

'I've got to grab my stuff before clocking off- coming with?'

It's a ridiculous thing for him to say because I'm 23 not 5, nevertheless, I'm intrigued. I love seeing the layouts of different places and exploring somewhere I technically don't have permission to be sounds just as pathetically exciting.

'Hell yes!'

He tightens the coat on me and does up the buttons, before leading me to the staffroom as if I'm a doctor here. Edward says nothing when he sees us walk past, giggling slightly and it's quiet enough that no hospital technician either notices or gives a shit.

* * *

The staff room is crap and I love it. There's loads of tall lockers about waist high stacked on-top of each other against the wall, a long blue sofa, kitchenette in the opposing corner and a mirror by the cupboards and one behind me.

'Quaint.' I admire, looking around the place. It's a better staffroom than most.

'I thought you'd like it.' He smiles, opens his locker so that it blocks him from view and drops a few bottles to his feet.

'You have a shower in here?!' Why on earth is he taking shower gel to work?!

'Of course!' I can hear him laughing. 'Why do you think I run to work?'

I sometimes forget he's a real human with human actions because he's genuinely so perfect. I'm about to make some stupid comment addressing this when his green shirt of the scrubs falls to the floor.

Like I said, I'm not the good person he is and because I'm weird as hell and the unknown is interesting, I watch his reflection in the mirror unbeknownst to him.

...

HOLY SHIT.

And I'm annoyed he doesn't _usually_ undress in front of me.

There's a new kind of pain I'm feeling now. Like a kind of ache to touch him because…just…ugh.

What the Fuck is going on?

His whole torso looks like it's carved from the Gods. He's sculptured beautifully, every inch of his pale arms defined into exact shapes until they reach his delicate hands. His chest and back have me feeling flustered, I want to reach out just to test if it is really his own body. Every mark and every curve is a deliberate teasing act, muscular and toned well with small patch of wispy chest hair on his front. I can only oblige to the demand of my eyes, letting them take in his shaped ribs and hard stomach followed by a perfect line of blonde hair trailing beneath his belly button into his trousers, encouraging the eyes below.

I feel light headed but can only stare begging for him to get naked.

'Are you alright?'

Shit. I take a breath, feeling far too warm and look away guiltily. He's putting on aftershave and the shirt from lunch.

I sadly bid the sight goodbye.

'Yeah?' I clear my throat to try and make the squeal less concerning. I'm sweating so badly right now… 'Why?'

He laughs and it sounds so melodic I'm resisting the urge to step closer.

'You gurgled?'

' _What_?' That's embarrassing… 'No I didn't!' But my thick throat is saying something else.

The heat of the room hits the roof when I see him drop his trousers. I'm gorging myself on the view from the mirror. The locker is tall enough that I can only see the top of his combed hair and from his calves down so I'm thanking every possible thing in sight for the discovery of reflection.

His ankles are gorgeous, the calves that they go into are thick, strong looking but agile following the knees up. I'm trying to tear my eyes away from the mirror but to stop would be the largest injustice to man.

It's insanely difficult holding any kind of vocal appreciation in, but by hell I do so, just to allow the beauty of perversion. So I follow his thighs, thick beautiful strong thighs tightly encasing a perfect contained package.

Ten. This is my ten. He is my ten, he's beautiful and agile and thrilling, not over built like Emmett and still quite slim but nonetheless a complete joy to be gazing at. A _perfect_ ten…

I'm actually drooling and I'm hot all over, all up my back, in my neck, in the nicer areas of my downstairs. The only things that are cold are my nipples and they are as erect as I want him to be.

Then the unthinkable happens. He hooks his hand into the waistband of his Calvin Klein's and pulls them off in a swoop...

JESUS CULLEN! WHATS WITH THE BRAVE NUDITY?!

I want to, Oh God I want to do it so bad, but I don't look. I keep my eyes on the floor, staring at his underwear trying to fight the lump in my throat and being unsuccessful.

I jump about ten feet when he whips his head around the locker door.

'Are you sure you're okay? You're making a lot of noise?'

Just fucking take me on this floor right now.

'Huh?'

His eyes are so gorgeously blue I drowned in them long ago.

'You.' He addresses, laughing. I don't see him do it but I know from the way he's fidgeting that he's pulling up new underwear and the tracksuits from this morning. I'm strangely sad.

Remember when I said your slaves to your eyes? I'm no exception. I wasn't just a slave, I was a goner, he could have asked me to shoot myself in that instant and it would've been done.

I'm shaking ever so slightly and my effort to hide it is making it worse.

'I take it you're driving?'

The slam of the metal seems to bring me back to reality or part reality, I can't stop staring at him which is really awkward because I don't want him to know I was just perving on him but I also want to know how long I've been wasting my life by not looking at him.

God Esme, that's your flatmate. Cullen is nerd. Just a nerd. A Pretty nerd…that's it leave it there, no more…

Oh man, I want him so bad.

Oh God, no. No I don't. Not at all…it's just rare you see someone who takes care of himself _that_ well…that's all I'm admiring, just his body, nothing else. I'm not attracted to him, just the body.

'Yes.' I say quickly when I realise I haven't said anything in a while. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm driving.'

He gathers his suit he must have been wearing before and I can see from where I'm standing it's got a lot of blood on it. He chucks the scrubs into a washing basket one handed, holding onto the boxers and throwing them into the same bag with blood on.

'Did you need me to take anything?' That makes me sound really perverted but I was actually referring to his backpack.

'It's cool, I've got it.'

I've only just calmed down (and not in heart rate) when we pass Edward in the waiting room. I'm hating on his presence. I'm hating on all their presence. I just want to go home, curl up in bed and use my trusty friend.

It's a wicked thing to think but it's so true…I'm wondering if this is the sort of thing I keep to myself or if I should tell Alice so we can admire it together… but Alice isn't single.

What the fuck is wrong with me?!


	8. Reasons why babysitters are underrated

**_I'd be super forever grateful if you could leave me a note of what you thought of this chapter._**

 ** _Thank youuuu!_**

* * *

'All better?' Edward asks, wondering with us back to the car. He's looking like he wants to complain as to why we took so long. The only reply I have to that is the body. Oh my God, _Cullen_ 's body.

'Hardly.' I mutter shyly because I have on the brain is dick jokes which isn't great as I've got to go babysit in an hour. 'Anyway, can we get Indian?'

Edward perks up. He shouldn't go anywhere near spicy food but whose cooking at 11 at night? No one. I'm hungry and Indian is the best.

'Please?' I'm asking the usual because he's always the one who declines.

He grimaces though he hasn't eaten anything either. I grab his arm, testing out the firmness and almost cheering when I realise he's actually real and so are the muscles underneath. Mmm. Jesus, how did I not notice this before?!

'Pleeeeease?!'

I see his bright blue eyes roll, those pretty thin lips pulling up into a smirk.

' _Pleeeeeassse_!' I need to get him fat so I don't jump the poor guy.

'Fiiine!' He replies, laughing.

It's nice being the only girl in the house, you get spoilt when you're not 100% because no one wants to upset you and they'll do _anything_ to avoid the crying fest.

* * *

I'm that shaken up with a concoction of dread, desire and damn-right amazement that the moment we arrive at the takeaway, I leave some money with the boys and pop in the newsagents.

Now I don't smoke, not anymore. So why in the sane heck I do this is beyond me, but I buy a packet of cigarettes and because I know the boys will ask me what I brought, I buy a big bar of chocolate to cover up the original purchase, which I show them. To which they seem positively bored by so we drive home.

I claim the arm chair once we're home and open my dinner with such ravenous energy once everyone's sat down because it smells insanely gorgeous. But my energy lasts all of two seconds.

'So? How'd it go with Bella?' I ask, chewing slowly because what did taste so good now tastes so... empty. Edward's starving and starts stuffing it down till Carlisle warns him that it's not the greatest idea in the world. His shifty green eyes glare at me.

'Fine.' He says stiffly

'Go on…' I urge.

He huffs into his food. I'm pushing mine all into the centre of the box. The first mouthful was lush but all I can think is seeing my fat thighs. I feel a little sick.

'She seems cool.' He says with a shrug.

'That's not what you were saying last night!' Carlisle teases, brows up with a playful glint in his eyes. Oh, I am all over this!

He puts his finger-tips to his mouth to hide his smile as he addresses the corner of the ceiling. 'Something along the lines of: ' _Oh Bella, you're so pretty._ ' ' _Let me love you Bella_!'

Edward's jaw drops and he juts out to elbow him but we're both laughing.

'I did _not_ say that!'

Ooooh grumpy. Good fun.

'Fine. You're right. I'm sorry…' Weirdly, Cullen's smirk is kinda hot… 'Maybe it was ' _Oh Bella, I'd love to play for you_!' He's referring to the piano in the corner coated with the shine of dust since Edward's too lazy to play recently.

His stony face changes from the entertained pretend anger to sheer surprise shaded with utter mortification. I graze the fork with my teeth but I don't really feel hungry anymore. Besides, it's more fun to get involved with Edward's night.

' _Oh Bella, let's leave the night club!_ ' I add, laughing. Carlisle gets my drift and follows it enthusiastically.

The copper kid is trying not to smile but his pink cheeks tell all.

' _Bella, let's hang out!_ '

' _Ooh Bella, Bella, let's talk about music!_ ' I'm giggling.

' _Bella, let's make music_!' Carlisle corrects.

My chest is killing me, we're laughing that much.

'Are you quite finished?' Edward grumbles.

I look to Carlisle who smiles modestly. I've got nothing either. 'Yeah, we're done.' I sigh.

'Good. Now, may I just ask…?' He looks smugly from Carlisle and I. We're perfectly relaxed. I never get shy, take your pick, kid. Fight me.

'KY jelly?' Edward asks, deliberately.

And with that one word, the asshole has won the evening.

'No comment.' Our saint mutters, quickly swallowing his mouthful.

On that note, I quickly stand up and leave the living room, throwing the majority of my food in the fridge with the chocolate. I'm about to reach in my pocket for the cigarettes when Carlisle comes into the kitchen, still looking pink in embarrassment. I've only got half an hour till I've got to go across the road and I don't want to go over there smelling like smoke so I'm awkwardly trying to fight my way out of the kitchen.

But ever since yesterday, he is unusually chatty.

'Why do you always do that?' he complains yet he seems curious, I'm wondering if he's spotted what's behind my back.

'Do what?' I ask nervously.

'You beg and beg and beg for us to order out so we do and you barely eat a mouthful before you're done.'

Okay, this has thrown me? What?

'No I don't.' I reply, confused.

He's smiling. 'You _so_ do. You've done it twice this week and did it last week too!'

'What are you, my dietician?'

Though thinking back to the guy's body, and then to my own…if he was my dietician I'd be hot as hell. Well…maybe not thinking to my huge thighs…Ay Jesus, I just need one goddamn smoke and I can forget about today.

'No, but the amount of money you're wasting on food. You've started to do it with all your dinners too.'

I watch him wash his plate in the sink and edge closer to the stairs. If he's going to be like this with food there's no way in hell I'm getting away with a little stick of nicotine.

'No I haven't!' I protest, frowning. He's confused when he looks up to find me further across the room than he expected but still entertained and somewhat cheeky-looking, too. What is today doing to me?!

He opens the fridge door as an example; my lefts overs from this week's food is sat there slowly rotting. It looks like a museum of cooking along with my takeaway box. Ooops.

'I'll clear it out.' I say shrugging, foot on the step.

'You don't have to clear it out, just eat your dinner!'

His concern is annoying me now which is good because it means we can go back to being flatmates and I can ignore how much of a good person he is and how gorgeous beneath his clothes.

'Alright, alright. Anyway, I've got to get ready for the Waldermans.'

He might be frowning at me but I make my escape while I can. I point up the stairs and run up it, feeling pretty pleased with myself. I get a bag packed first before curling up on the window seat and leaning out the window to light up.

The first drag chokes me but there's something familiar and comforting about it. It's so calming, I'm hardly worried about going back to work tomorrow.

The door opens and because I'm too busy bathing in my own happiness I barely notice the presence except when he snatches the thing from my teeth and crumbles it outside the window even though it must have hurt his hand a little because the end was definitely lit. Badass.

I groan at him because I fucking hate the fact that Edward ratted on me.

'Give them here,' He commands smoothly, holding out his hand. He's annoyingly gentle.

I wanna throw a tantrum but the tone he's using and the stern refusal to back down is making this dangerous…And since seeing him undress, I can't help but find any small act of his weirdly eye-catching.

'I just want _one_!' I whine, hiding from his blue eyes if I look at him anymore he'll convince me before the game has started.

'Uh-huh. Hand them over.'

Eurgh, gimme a break, Cullen!

'But I paid for them.' I sound petulant.

'You gave up!' He scolds, but he is gentle enough that I know if I'm not careful, I'm going to find myself laughing.

'I have, just let me have one!' I plead.

I've still got the nine in the box but I know for a fact he'll end up winning this round because I'm in my room and he's in the door way and I am not jumping from any kind of building let alone this one. A packet of cigarettes is not worth my life.

Or yours by the way…

'No.' He's smirking because he knows he's winning.

I'm thinking I might be able to be allowed that one if I tell him the truth about what happened in the office but then I also know how much he'll pity me and no one wants that.

'I've got to leave in 20 minutes, you can't keep me here hostage!' Hostage in your own bedroom? Riiight, I forgot how much hell that was.

'You're not my hostage?' He says smiling, it's a challenge.

Good, I like a challenge. So I go to leave my bedroom and he does exactly as I expect. He holds his hand out for the packet and blocks the door with less than a stance.

When I said I wanted his body this was not my thinking...

I could just shut the door and smoke them all now but I'm not crazy and I want to win.

'You'll have to let me through eventually.' I argue.

'Will I?'

Please don't judge when I say that this is also sounds hella sexy coming from his smart-mouth.

The cigarettes are in my back pocket tight against my ass. We're testing each other. He won't go near my ass (at all) without permission and I can't get through unless I give him the packet…

'Just let me smoke _one_!'

He's fighting the smile. 'Nope.'

So I push against the thick leg on the door frame. It doesn't budge so I lean onto that gorgeous musclular arm and that doesn't move either. Hmm. I try to clamber through the space but he very gently pushes me to the floor.

So I squash the cigerettes. GREAT!

'This is WAR, _Mister_!'

We keep at it for a good 10 minutes and as I noted earlier, he's far stronger than me and I'm laughing too much I'm not getting anywhere.

I'm pushing as hard as I can on his right leg, shifting all my weight, my feet sliding against the carpet.

He hasn't shifted a toe out of line. He's comfortable with his usual smirk, his relaxed posture. He doesn't even look that strong and here I am using all my effort.

'Ten minutes…' he warns. I've still got to get changed yet and grab a few last bits.

With a huff, I push harder on his leg, not actually hurting him just trying to shift him out of the way. I lean backwards into his arm and leg. It feels safer than steel and isn't budging.

'May I take the cigarettes?' He asks, his voice unsteady but only because he's laughing. I'm losing my breath and my ability to speak over here.

'No!' I say through my teeth.

'Okay.' He says with a shrug. I push on him again, no movement. 'Seven minutes…' He sighs.

'I have to get changed!'

It doesn't faze me to get changed in front of him but that's hardly going to happen. He's seen enough of me naked to last a lifetime. Goddamn it, why can't he just let me win!

'May I _please_ take the cigarettes?' he asks again.

I grumble at him, still pushing on his legs when I yell back;

'Fiiine! Take them!'

He's still very professional and stays well away from touching anything but the packet and then relents his right side. I'm still pushing and should go flying about thirty feet into the wall but he catches me easily before letting me go like I was some sort of delicate bird or something.

'Thank you.' He says counting the sticks. He's halfway down the stairs when he gently asks;

'Lighter?'

So I throw that at his back, slam the door like a stroppy teen and have a quick wash in the bathroom before changing into PJs and crossing the road.

Ass.

* * *

The kids are in bed when I take over from senior Mrs Walderman which is kinda nice because it means that for now, I don't have to do anything except make a bed on the sofa. I've turned on the TV but I'm not watching it, I'm lying on my side, facing the blur of colours without registering them.

My leg hurts, my wrist hurts, my vagina hurts. I don't know what to feel. In regards to the office... shame maybe?

What about his wife and kids? Is there anyway I could survive without the job? I know Cullen would cover me financially for a few months if I asked, just like he did with my car… but I don't want to do that. I want to be independent and happy and not have some weirdo-boss obsessed with me…

My thoughts drift and I'm happy to let them. It was sweet how well Cullen knew me…even when filling out my chart he could write my height without consulting me about it.

Then in the locker rooms.

Did he _always_ look that way? How many times had I shared a bed with him? At what point did he suddenly turn into a Greek God? Every inch of his body, all over, captivating, mouth-watering, looking smooth and comfortable with hardly any imperfections bar a few freckles here and there and those _im_ perfections became his perfections.

The slam of the door above followed by crying has me jumping. I rush up the stairs into the youngest's bedroom.

He's a year and three months and is wobbling about in his cot on his feet when he sees me, reaching his arm out for a cuddle. His face is streaked with tears and snot and because now he's awake, I have to comfort him. So I pull him onto my hip, silencing the stuttering and smoothing his light hair. Together we follow the other hysterical crying into Serena's room.

She's not in her bed. I almost start to freak out when I look closer, cover thrown back to see the mattress stained with blood.

Oh please not tonight. Though it had to be didn't it. When ws I ever going to get an easy life? I follow the awkward sounds of strained sobs till I'm outside the bathroom door.

'Serena?'

The screams are because 11 years olds can be incredibly hysterical.

'Serena?!' I repeat, fighting the exhaustion. Her brother is attacking my neck, dribbling.

There's another cry followed by the words: ' _I'm dying_ '.

 _Whyyyyyyyyyyy meeeeeeeee._

'You're not dying, Sweet. You've just got your period…' I tell the door, trying to keep the youngest quiet by making amused faces. He's smiling which isn't good because he needs to be sleeping.

'It hurts!' she whimpers.

I try to open the door but it doesn't budge despite my hefty pull. She's locked it.

'It does hurt sometimes…' I say, kicking my sense of timing and her parent's, too. 'Come on now, open the door.'

She's going a little crazy, screaming and howling. I don't blame her, periods suck.

'I can't…'

'Why not?' I ask, trying to keep my voice sweet, it's crazy difficult because of how emotionally exhausted I already am.

'It's locked…' she sniffles.

AHAHAHAHA. CHILDREN.

'Well, _un_ lock it?' I encourage through gritted teeth.

She cries more. 'I'm going to bleed out.'

I don't need this _shiiiiiiit_.

'You're not going to bleed out, I promise. Just please open the door.'

'IT'S STUCK!' she screams, choked by tears.

The kid on my lap looks like he's about to join in the bravado of tears… I don't need this at One in the morning. I've got class in nine hours.

'Okay, okay. Don't panic. Just wait there.'

I pull my phone and press the speed dial.

'What's up?' It sounds like he's eating again.

'I need you to go in the bathroom and tell me whether I've got tampons or pads on the side.'

He almost shrieks. 'Hell _no_!'

'Edward!' I seethe. 'This is an emergency! Just go tell me what's in there!'

'No. Way!'

I hear him drop, or rather, _throw_ the phone or something like that until there's a change of tone.

'All okay?' Carlisle asks, clearly baffled. Oh _grow up_ Edward.

'Yeah, I need you to go tell me if I've got pads or tampons in the bathroom?'

I know he's looking confused, I also know he's probably doing his best to stay out of it, well tough shit. I'm waiting impatiently, Jonathan on my lap gurgling for attention.

'Both.' He says eventually.

'Fantastic, could you bring over the pads and a tool box?'

This seems to gater alarm

'Is everything alright?!' he asks, probably using his writing hand to cover his mouth like he always does when he's worried.

'Just hurry up, would you?'

I close the phone and try and calm down Serena though the words are pointless when they're muffled by the door.

When Carlisle knocks, I simply tear the items from his hand and drop the kid into his arms. He panics a little (or a lot) and I'm suddenly aware that I've never really seen him around children.

'Entertain him for a bit, eh?' I say running up the landling and fiddling through the right utensils to fit the screws.

'Es? Er...What on earth?' He follows me up the stairs as I route around a little deeper. Aha, found it. Good, this won't take long.

'Do you need any help?'

The kid is watching him carefully, mirroring his concern, any second he's going to cry. The kid I mean. Though Cullen isn't necessarily that far behind. I don't particularly want either of them around when I open up the door to what could be a horrendous sight so I do my best to look persuasive.

'If you could just take him downstairs that'd be fantastic….'

He watches me carefully before reluctantly doing as I ask. Once the lock is unscrewed, I can finally open the blasted door.

She's crying her eyes out but hasn't moved from the toilet.

'Oh, Sweet…' I sigh and smooth her hair, she's clenching her stomach whimpering, more out of general shame than actual pain I would assume. 'Come on, let's get you cleaned up…'

* * *

After all that, including the washing of both blood and bed with the brief conversation about sanitary products, she's still very confused and very tired. She follows me downstairs as I fix a drink, silently cursing her lack of education under my breath. How on earth am I meant to explain that from here on out, her life sucks?

Cullen is on the sofa, singing to the giggling child.

'And the leg bone's connected to the…knee bone and the knee bones connected to the...'

He looks up to see us both watching him, I'm smirking now. He doesn't really listen to a lot of music so to hear him sing (even if it's something daft) is incredibly cute. It's like another shy barrier broken.

'That's not exactly how it goes…' I chide lovingly.

He's blushing. He doesn't really know what to do these days other than blush but it's still sweet.

'All okay?' he asks shyly, looking more to the girl than to me. He's got a concerned 'Doctor's' expression on his face... A-ha, Doctor.

'Well I'm not dying.' Serena mutters, sniffling. Cullen watches curiously, most probably coming to the correct conclusion before looking to me for confirmation.

'I was actually hoping you could explain the whole uterus thing to her while I go fix a drink for the Kid?'

He gawks at me looking like he's going to freak. I like dropping him in the deep-end up with the kids, so far, it's worked out well.

'Isn't that something more appropriate for the babysitter?' He asks desperately, his voice a little higher than usual.

I roll my eyes. 'In this case, a _doctor_ is better. Just do a diagram. You know.' I wave my hand dismissively to express how little of an issue it is. He's looking like he wants to scream but while he's here, I'm going to make use of him.

Johnathan, of who is far too excited, is crying out to me once he's heard the fatal lines of a bottle and I take him rather sternly from Cullen's arms. He's lost his security net. Teenagers are a whole other kettle of hormonal, stroppy, infuriatingly petulant fish. Not my problem at the moment as wiith eyes as heavy as the whole WWE network, I force myself to warm up this bloody drink.

When we return, Cullen's drawn a diagram on a sheet of paper, surprisingly neat and quite simple. Serena is listening to what he's saying, nodding with great understanding as if she really were an expert in the whole 'enjoy your week of agony' stuff.

'It's happens to all women.' He reassures, locking me in place with his eyes once he spots me leaning on the sofa near him.

She smiles slightly and yawns. I'm glad he took the explanation. All I wanted to mutter was that she was going to bleed and that sooner or later she would have to get over it. I'm not normally a bitch. I love children but this one can be somewhat spoilt and today is just not the right day…. She yawns again and with next to no arguments, she returns to bed easily.

Carlisle is suddenly in the kitchen, trying to make sense of the various bottles that are on display, reminding me of the forgotten task at hand. It has me smiling. He grabs the milk from the jug it was sitting in and tries to pass it to me but I make sure I've got my arms full. Jonathan is giggling in my ear, reaching out to the milk.

'Test it first.' I encourage, smiling.

He offers me the strangest look before taking the lid off and sniffing the foreign stuff. Because I'm a bitch, I watch him do it, and I think I'm actually going to let him drink it before something makes me change my mind.

'I meant the temperature!' I say quickly. He sighs before offering me a glare. I should be nicer to him but there's just something I love about teasing him. He's back to frowning at the bottle looking for a sign. Jesus, you would've thought he'd know the basics? Apparently not.

'Just tip it on your wrist and tell me what you think.'

He does so though it's completely alien for him and grimaces. 'I guess it's kinda warm?'

I offer my wrist which he douses in the stuff, Johnathan is getting impatient as he wriggles about in my arms. It's a good temperature.

'Yeah that's fine.' I encourage holding the kid to the floor until he finds his balance and toddles back into the living room. Carlisle is watching, drink raised in hand, still waiting for that instruction.

It's nice to see whose really in charge around here.

'Well go give it to him then?' I say blatantly, laughing while I begin to dismantle the bleeding steriliser and start it up again. He looks at me and then quickly runs after the little one.

Not that he'd ever admit it but he's enjoying himself. You can see it in his panicked smile. It's sweet. He's so concerned and willing to learn. He'd make a great parent one day, see already how well he is with Edward.

As I walk back into the living room, I see he's holding the bottle to the kid's mouth whose eyes are drooping heavily with the demand to sleep.

'You don't have to do that.' I whisper, nudging his arm. I'm not the only one whose getting tired, my co-partner in crime is finding the warmth of a child in your arms somewhat comforting and he's fighting the urge to get comfortable in my make shift bed and sleep too.

'He can hold it himself…' I explain, smiling.

'Oh?' He goes to let his grasp drop but the kid whines so he keeps it there.

'Spoilt.' I tease, nudging the leg of the child's baby grow. Johnathan obviously doesn't understand but I have to say it never the less.

While he's watching him, I quickly check my phone to make sure I transfer the rent from my account to Carlisle. There's an email followed with another payslip which is weird because pay day is another week away.

This was not what I was expecting….oh _not_ good…

He spots my expression. 'You okay?'

'I've been given a pay rise….' I murmur, not good, reaaaally not good.

Johnathan is asleep on the sofa now so with great theatrics, I focus more on how we should tuck the poor soul into bed but he knows something isn't right. As if I was an open book, he could read all my secrets with little more than a curved eyebrow and a small question. I just can't stand lying to him.


	9. Reasons why I talk too much

_**Hi Guys,**_

 _ **Thank you sooo much for your lovely reviews, please continue to leave your comments, they brighten my whole day! Here's another busy chapter for you all.**_

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* * *

Mistakenly, I assume he's planning to run back home, it's what would be normal, instead we both fall back to the sofa, sitting closer than I would deem usual for the anti-social bugger. But I feel strangely casual about close proximity.

'He's given you a payrise? After he asked for your number?' he asks delicately, his voice holding that annoyingly gentle tone. It's a tone I'm not sure I like. It's not condescending _per se_ , not even patronizing, it's more like... worry. A worry that I'd prefer for him to keep concealed.

My head falls into a nod as I pass him the phone with the evidence bright on the screen like a warning. He grimaces.

Oh God.

'You don't think it's some sort of...' he hesitates, eyes sad as he regards my awkward posture. I fight to correct it. ' _Bribery_ do you?'

'Or blackmail.' I whisper. I don't realise he's listening enough but he catches my words like a hawk to its prey and shifts so that I can't escape his addressing.

'Did something happen?' he breathes, his undivided attention making me wish I was both deaf and dumb...and maybe even dead, too.

'No.'

Pay rises are good. I got a pay rise, that's _good_ …? Right?

I don't even believe me so I can't see how he does. He takes another steady breath.

'You don't have to stay there if he's making you uncomfortable…?' He says slowly. It's like he knows it's the sort of sentence to piss me off because it does exactly that.

Does he not get it?! Is he really that bloody naive he doesn't understand that I _need_ this job?!

'Of course I do!' I'm not yelling but I'm upset enough that he knows I'm furious, maybe not at him but I can't help but accidently give him the brunt of it. 'If I get fired, if I quit, I've got fuck all. No money, no uni, no future!'

Having a lack of money is the big thing. If I don't have money, I don't have a chance with anything else.

'Hey,' he says softly. He reaches out to take my hand but when I don't give it, he lets it return to his own space, maybe a little hurt. 'If you're short, you know we can cover you.'

Pfft ' _we_ '.

'I won't be short, I'll be _poor_!' I cry out, ignoring the caving of my chest. All these opportunities for my future, shot down by my own fucking body…

'Like I said, I can cover you!' He insists, brushing a hand through his hair, he looks stressed but unlike me, apparently, his eyes do not change colour.

'Not for long, not for months or years. That's ridiculous!' I'll be completely on my own, I can't expect a bunch of _students_ to support a _student_. I gues I won't be a student. I'll be nothing. I'll have no one.

'For as long as you need me to. You can depend on me.'

The words are stupid and it makes me angry he tries to get me to believe them.

'Why don't you understand?! I won't live like that! I want to depend on myself.'

The important thing to remember is that there are kids in bed and my emotional yelling, isn't ggoing to help them sleep any better.

'Money is just money.' He says dismissively, trying eagerly to lighten the atmosphere with an awkward smile. I don't even realise the TV is still on and sitting on the table is a diagram of a womb.

'No, it's not. Money is my only fucking life source! I'm not clever like you, I didn't get a scholarship!'

He wants to argue back but something stops him. His frown changes into a pause…

'That's a point…Why don't you apply for the scholarship, again?' He sounds so hopeful. He didn't even listen.

'Did you not hear me?! I'm not _talented_ enough! Besides, I've already started this degree! I like it!' It's not exactly a lie so much as an exaggeration of the truth. A large exaggeration.

'You're more than talented enough. Apply for the extended scholarship!'

He's officially gone mad, I'm trying to not get angry with him but I'm so furious and devastated that he's so stupidly polite that in the act of being polite, he's crushing my soul.

I applied for the scholarship before the end of graduation last year and I was declined,again, hence why I'm now doing interior design. It'd break my heart when they declined me again and again and again. Not to mention how my own poverty would lead to me losing them. Not just Cullen. Alice, too. And Emmett.

 _'How about drinks?'_ they might suggest. 'Nahh, _sorry guys, I'm currently too poor to even afford a roof over my head, let alone bread.'_ It's not exactly the best way to keep a friendship alive.

'I'm not good enough!' I repeat, moving away from him so that we're not seated near each other. I don't want to look at those deceiving eyes. It hurts he has too much faith in me.

He looks a little annoyed too. He unlocks his jaw and sighs, holding his sentences before letting their honesty sting my wounded pride.

'Please. Just please apply.'

That one hurt.

In that moment I've made my decision. The job is all I have to fund my education, my future. I've got to do whatever I can to keep it. Like I said before. Sex is good? I can just close my eyes if I don't like it. It's only for a few more years. What the fuck am I saying? It's not going to come to that.

'What harm can it do?' He says when I don't answer.

I shoot daggers at him. 'All the harm in the bloody world! You've got what you want, you're a doctor! I'm not within a seconds grasp!'

He stands up so that we're face to face, strangely determined not to back down for once. I'm trying not to throw something at him. I'm starting to miss the times when we're were brief flatmates. Just acquaintances …in the last two days we've shot up into some weird kind of early marriage.

'If you don't apply, you'll never forgive yourself and I won't forgive you either!'

I do throw something at him, a cushion I think but it's not the point.

'Just fuck off will you?! If you're going to make me feel this awful about myself then you can just _fuck-_ off!'

I let myself tumble to the floor. Swearing to myself and I knead the roots of my hair, threating to yank them out. My head is pounding, my heart doing double the damage and the whole lower half of my body, feat the addition of a bandaged wrist, are inflamed with agonising pain.

Never in my wildest dreams did I see myself yelling at _Cullen_.

There's a moment when I think he's gone, that he has actually done as I've asked but I look up to see his pained face. He helps me stand up before encouraging me to lie on the sofa and then sits against it on the floor like a kind of guard. Whatever the action means, it means enough. My heart feels heavy but it looks like the feelings mutual. He hates arguing.

'I'm sorry.' I murmur pathetically. I comb the back of his hair where it's sticking up at the back, almost looking like there's some kind of drie blood stuck in it. Selfishly, I'd yet again forgotten about his bad day.

'No more than me.' He promises, eyes to the TV as he partly leans into the movement of my hands. It's is somewhat weird but then it's weird I'm touching him. Or maybe it's not. As of recent, everything about him just feels...comforting.

* * *

The next thing I'm aware of is a key in the door because I've apparently fallen asleep on the sofa.

'Hey, Sweet! Oh Carlisle?' While she didn't expect him, the greeting is soft. 'Didn't realise you were here too, how are you, my love?'

He's forced himself up into a standing position and even with my sleep filled eyes, I can see that he didn't sleep very well because his posture is shockingly bad…

'How was your holiday?' He asks, still polite, still smiling despite his aching back. He was awake before me and had been sitting on the arm chair when they came in. Mr Walderman is happy to see him and they make some conversation about the stock markets doing well this week.

Yet again Cullen didn't bloody wake me! EURGH! What's his problem this week?!

I greet them as calmly as I can, relay the events of the evening and help put the sofa-bedding away. Mrs Walderman is ever so sweet and so I offer to help her unpack her suitcase in an attempt to avoid any trouble I'll be in for accidently having Cullen ' _stay-round_ '. She's in a fluster and her husband is still talking to my Flatmate so she accepts the offer super-fast.

'Carlisle looks like he's doing well.' She notes once we're in her bedroom. The kids are still fast asleep and she's helping me flit between the piles of clean and dirty clothing.

'I'm sorry.' I say guilty. I didn't exactly ask for their permission to have him round…it just escalated. Err…not in that sense… 'I should have asked, I just didn't think and then he was watching Jonathan while I was with Serena and-' I'm starting to sound panicky…which isn't usual for me.

'Oh, Esme, dear. Don't be silly.' She says, placing a hand on my good arm. She squeezes it playfully before giving a similar smile, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

I'm starting to wonder if she _also_ thinks we're a thing and I don't know how to make myself believable when I say that we're 100% not.

'He's a good buddy…' I add awkwardly…

I don't really like having the word 'buddy' associated with him. A buddy would be Emmett. Annoying as hell but still fun, like a juvenile big brother. At a push, Jasper could fit into that title too. Carlisle was not a 'buddy'. He wasn't a 'lad' or a 'guy' or a 'dude'… and flatmate no longer fit either… Oh God. He's just…we're just… _friends_?

She makes a face before forcing a smile and turning to me. 'Oh? Oh my mistake, I thought you were…' Up go those heavily-plucked eyebrows and with it, my embarrassment.

'No, no, no' I correct, hiding my flushed face in my task... 'Not at all…'

This is the point where I have to mentally scream to myself _: ESME PLATT, STOP THINKING ABOUT HIS BODY, YOU SLAG._

'You just seemed so close…I'm sorry for making presumptions…' she giggles, a high pitched giggle more suiting to Alice than her. It feel reeeeaally weird.

I shake my head, dismissing the comment. There's a quiet moment before we both laugh a little relieved.

'You do look good together, though.' She teases, winking at me like she's my age and I'm hers…

 _WHAT_?! Cullen?! Ew. No. No, no, no…no matter how good (correction: _GREAT_ ) his body is…or how charmingly sweet he is at the moment (?), we would be just wrong together. Him so innocent, me so not... Yuck.

It's in silence that I finish helping her out before muttering that I have class and have to leave. She pays me some money and Cullen follows me out looking unusually pleased.

It makes me suspicious.

I count the money….and they've over paid me by a fucking fortune.

'Oh no you don't!' I mutter, turning around on the spot and heading back to the door I've walked through. It's only now that I remember I'm in pyjamas and slippers in the middle of the street, he on the other hand is in comfy tracksuits and a jumper. I look like a street pyscho.

I decide I must have got hit by a car or something and may be having some awkward dream because Cullen wraps an arm around my waist to stop me and I _enjoy_ it.

Let me just repeat this; _Nerd boy_ who I only see on **rare** occasions and is so bloody stuck in his valedictorian mind-set that he couldn't possibly tell you where the vagina was on the body, let alone touch it willingly- he, **_he_** touches my waist, _voluntarily_.

And my heart _flutters_?!

What the fuck is wrong with me?! Did he overdose me on some weirdo paracetomol. MAYBE I'M HAVING A HEART ATTACK.

'If you go back and return the money, you're only going to embarrass them.' He says nobly. He loosens the perfect curve of his arm till deciding that he shouldn't have touched me and is freaking out slightly. His freaking out in turn, calms me down immensley. for a moment there, I thought he's gone all cocky on my ass.

...

That doesn't sound right.

I can't be dealing with this shit. Either he's going to be confident as hell or he's going to be shy. I can't handle it two ways, I'm confused enough as it is.

He's blushing.

'It's insulting!' I argue, blaming him for it all because he's meddling with my brain and heart and other things that I am sooooo not going to even validate right now.

'You did your job, Esme. That's what they paid you for.'

This sounds like a dig.

Why is he suddenly so protective?! But I find myself lost for words (another weird matter) so storm back into our own house where I throw the money on the side as a kinda 'quit my job fund'.

Give him his due, he is a smart guy.

The third of our trio is obviously still in bed so I attempt to steal the bathroom first despite the fact that Carlisle has work very soon and if I continue in the speed I'm going at, I'm going to make him late…but I can't help but slow into some stunted pace while I brush my teeth.

I think I'm finally alone and I relax a little, taking large a breath.

'Es, without being rude, you really do have to hurry up!' He says through the door.

Like I said before, weird mood so I open the door but stay sat by the sink and swear at him while vigorously cleaning my fangs. He's a little stunted at first and doesn't know what to do till I raise my hand at him in question.

I.e. 'I'm not moving, take your pick'

He probably wants the shower but because I'm in a foul mood, I make no intention to move… so he grabs his toothbrush. Then the fucker won't stop staring at me. Those delicate blue eyes are on my face, back to the mirror at my reflection and then my mouth again.

'D'you mind?' he asks gently, indicating to his top. He's taken the words right from my brain. He's going to get undressed but he's being polite first….I _do_ mind….or do I?

He thinks the fall of my head is a nod and so strips off his t-shirt in one flourished movement and rustles about in the bathroom cupboard, only his well toned back on show. The fall of my head was confusion, I was just simply following my jaw so I didn't stare open mouthed at the guy.

I've stopped brushing my teeth….

And now _I'm_ the stalker…

And my eyes are glued to him and his body and his back and his shoulders. Damn, those shoulders! My neck is getting hot. He's rushing about a bit but for me, everything is relatively slow. He reaches in front of me to turn on the shower and I'm still wiping the bristles along my incisors though I don't really need to. They're perfectly clean.

I look at him weakly just because he's in my eye line; I've clearly forgotten my own name as well as the act of breathing. The reflection did him no justice at all yesterday…my eyes are melting as they run down his chest, eyebrow raised, taking him all him, the smooth bumps of hard work, the fine hair trailing from his naval and below… There's more to see than yesterday because his trousers are loose. Not too loose but loose enough that I see the pelvic muscles. I'm more than warm now, I'm completely flustered, my mouth is watering. I'm warming inside my underwear….which kinda hurts but not necessarily in a bad way…

Fucking hell, he is outstandingly gorgeous.

His mouth keeps opening and closing. His impatient face needing an answer. He's still rushing about around me and because I'm in a daze, I only just realise in time what he was asking. He fits a flat hand into the waistband of his trousers.

My knees are going weak.

Blue eyes look sheepishly to me, muttering more words I don't note. And as I realise where I am… and down comes his trousers

Oh _hell_ no!

I throw my tooth brush in frustration and storm past him, knocking his shoulder with mine, heading straight for my bedroom. My heart is going wild but that much is _too_ far…flatmate or no flatmate, marbled God or not, there is _no_ way I will ever be able to face him if I see his dick.

What the heck is wrong with the guy?!

 _Boundaries_!

I send Alice a text and then with a mind as blank as a clean canvas, I automatically start getting ready for my lecture.

* * *

The class is okay… I don't listen as much as I should because I'm thinking about what Cullen said about the scholarship. I'd still be attending the same university. Longer hours, less days. I'd be painting all the time, writing essays, selling my work, being happy…. _If_ I got in… Art functions and gallery's and posh parties, all with me selling my work.

It was a dream.

A dream that could only ever be a dream...

Alice is a lot more friendly today and she greets me with such a large hug that I wonder what she's done wrong.

She looks pretty, her dark hair is spiky at her chin and her coat long and blue. She looks like a cat walk model…except she'd barely reach the hips of a real life star.

'How you doing?!' She asks enthusastically, pushing my drink towards me. She offered to pay and because I'm not an asshole, I order something relatively cheap. She's definitely up to something.

'Yeah, eventful weekend.' I say, smiling widely. I think I'm hilarious. Though thinking to all my war wounds, I really shouldn't be. Thank fuck I'mdoped up on asprin right now other wise I would be in an unnamable amount of pain.

'Carlisle mentioned.' She says quickly, mirroring my smile.

 _GIVE ME A BREAK._

'He did?! What did he say?!' Why do I sound like the girl scout who's got her first crush?

'Don't panic, all he said was that he had an ' _eventful'_ weekend?'

My tongue sweeps along my teeth, I'm thinking.

'So when did you two get so chatty?' I try to tease taking a careful sip of my drink. The only problem is that my teasing, yet again, has a displeasing sound to it. I sound pissed off. More like when did _he_ get so chatty. Eurgh what is with him recently?!

'Since he and Jasper started hanging out. And since my best friend started to live with him.'

I roll my eyes as she goes on to tell me they have a shared interest in history and philosophy. It's hurting my head, I'm thinking I should just come clean, bear it all. I can't deal with this weirdo confusion going on with my brain at the moment. Do I tell her?! Do I keep quiet?! Why is he messing with my system?!

'Cullen has been acting _really_ weird lately….' I say eventually. Mainly because I can't bear to keep it to myself. I say lately like it's a gradual turn of events. It's really not. It's like _BAM; meet Carlisle Cullen, after four years, he's not who you thought he was. Crazy, huh?_ And I'm supposed to be totally cool with it.

'He has?' She's not too convincing at first but somehow she manages to persuade me that she knows nothing.

I take a big deep breath in.

'I think I freaked him out when I asked him to check my vag.' Clearly not my best choice of wording. Her jaw falls open.

'You did _what_?!'

I _so_ don't need her anger right now. It's not like I'm attracted to the guy…not much... Because that only makes me think I'm going crazy.

Her face suggests that perhaps I am actually _really_ stupid. She's staring at me, open mouthed.

'Long story short, I've torn my vag, he diagnosed it….but he was really weird after…' I'm starting to feel really insecure from the way she's looking at me.

'You don't think it could be due to the fact he had his hand up his Flatmate?!' She squeaks.

I narrow my eyes, suspiciously. 'Funny….that's just what he said?'

We have a funny staring competition until I finally give in.

'Just bloody tell me will you?! I know you're up to something!' I say exasperated.

The bell on the coffee shop door rings, but I'm only paying attention to Alice randomly standing up in front of me.

'I've invited the girls,' she says quickly.

And all of a sudden, they're there.

The girls?! When did _they_ become _the girls?!_ We are not 'the girls' type of people. That's not who we are!

Bella is looking shy still but she smiles nevertheless. Blondie offers a tight attempt but I'll take what I can get. Alice greets them both as if they're her sisters. Goddamn Alice and her good nature.

'You were saying?' She says innocently, sitting down so that we're now in a four. She's immediately relaxed. Now I want to yell at her.

'Does it matter?' I mumble quickly. Blondie is grinning, clearly intrigued to my misery. If it is misery…EURGH.

'Anything _we_ can help _you_ with?' She says but it sounds like she's setting me up to hurt myself. Trust me, I so don't need your help right now.

'Nope.' I say it too fast. Bella is sounding interested too.

'Are you sure? You sound a little stressed?'

Of course I'm sure! Do you really think I'm going to depend on the aid of three girls who wouldn't even go to the toilet on their own? No.

'Yeah of course- I better head off anyway…I've got a seminar...' Lies, I've already had my classes.

Alice's sad eyes follow me as I say my goodbyes and hurry out the shop.

Now I'm in a dilemma….for the moment I really thought Alice might be able to help me out and she's pretty much my only friend- .

Without a second's hesitation, I drive to Emmett's.

* * *

He's still in bed so Jasper opens the door, clearly surprised as he lets me storm past him.

'Hi?' He greets looking a little alarmed, his dark eyebrows inching closer towards his eyes. 'Carlisle isn't-'

I almost barge in. Almost, I'm not that rude.

'Is Emmett still in bed?' I interrupt, ever the impatient one.

'Normally doesn't get up until 3.' He says smiling.

'Call this an early wakeup call then!'

It's on opening the door that I have suddenly become crazy grateful for living with Edward instead. Emmett's room is disturbingly foul and even from the smell of boy, I'm feeling sick. But I push through it and refuse to breath through my nose.

'Oi.' I say, gently kicking his rib with my painted toes. He's lucky I went for sandals today, I had been thinking about the sneakers with the hard rim.

Usual Emmett, more talk than action; He groans but doesn't move.

'Em, come on, I need your help…'

'Nrr.'

I roll my eyes and push on his rib again a little harder.

Now Emmett is your typical lad, he works out, very hard and his body tells you that. He is very muscular and incredibly well built so that he'll tower over anyone but unlike some people, he knows how to have fun and eats and drinks what he shouldn't.

But then unlike somepeople, he doesn't have a natural good natured patience and loyalty overdosed with the finest art of male specimen my experienced eyes have had the luck to pour over. Well, at least the majority of it anyway.

Hurriedly, I try and shake the image away.

'Emmett!' I growl. This is the part where I emphasise how impatient I am.

He buries his head further into the pillows so that I can only see his curls of brown. I kick him again, harder this time.

'Whaaat?!' He says finally. Sitting up so he's looking at me.

Again, unlike Carlisle, he sleeps naked which is a totally natural boy thing to do. Carlisle wouldn't sleep naked if he was on a desert and burning up.

'I need your help.' I repeat, folding my arms over my chest. I've got to be quick, I've got work soon seeing as the bastards called me in early.

'What is it?!' He complains, sitting up so the blanket falls and I see his morning glory…oh God. I turn around hurriedly and in turning around I spot something that could be very useful.

For a moment I'm distracted…How many times had I woken up in Carlisle's bed and how many times had he had a morning glory?! He was a guy right? I'm sure his chest says so but I have never seen the guy even slightly turned on. Not even by nature? I mean, he ran for fuck sake? Don't you get a stiffy afterwards?

It's good I've spotted what I've spotted. This'll help.

'Can I borrow these?' I ask excitedly, probably not the best thing to sound while holding the DVDs but nevertheless, I have a plan. A dodgy and frankly disturbingly weird plan. But I've had enough of this saintly bullshit. This whole act is about to be destroyed.

He's looking at me, eyebrows raised as he tries to read my obscure thoughts.

'You really are one of your own kind aren't you?' He says grinning.

I roll my eyes. 'It's not for me, dumbass. It's for Cullen.'

If I needed the damn DVDs, I wouldn't go to Emmett, YUCK.

'You're giving _porn_ to Cullen?!' I'm annoyed he's copying Alice's confusion in it all. If anyone, he should be the first to support me.

'Yeah, it might reinstall a bit of confidence in him, you know. Bring him a bit of motivation to the dormant sex drive.' I say, trying to act like it means nothing. It means everything, I am destroying an era.

'Isn't that...' His large grin transforms into a crooked but nevertheless entertained, smile.

'Isn't it what?' The reason I sound bored is because I wanted more endearing support from the guy.

'Morally wrong?'

'For fuck sake, Emmett. He's not a priest.' He's a young lad who needs to get L-A-I-D.

He burst out into laughter before carefully pulling out one of the DVDs from the stack in my hand. It's black with labelled warning signs on it.

'Not that one…' He says with a smile. 'Don't want to haunt the poor guy.'

'You're sick.' I say but I'm smiling. I don't really need Emmett's help anymore seeing as I've now stolen his collection so I go to leave but he stops me, hand poised in the air.

'No, hold on. I've got to know. Es, why in the sane-heck of all that is normal in the world, are you giving _porn_ to Cullen?'

Damn. I don't really wanna say anything more than I have to.

'Like I said, dormant sex drive.' I say offhandly. He smirks, but unusually, he seems not to believe me.

'You live with the guy, why would you want to make him the slag that you are?'

I glare at him.

'No offence,' he adds.

I sigh. 'Consider it a favour.'

'For you or him?'

'To him. _Obviously_. He doesn't get out enough. If he becomes the raging slut that I am then I don't have to feel guilty about anything.' I explain, smiling. It's a poor excuse but it's kind of true. It's also true that the weird kind of innocent-come badboy act is doing something really weird for me and becoming a bit of a turn-on. I need to stop that. And whats more unattractive than anything else in the world? A bigheaded, confident, cocky bastard who is dying to sleep with anyone they see.

I'm a goddamn genius.

'Wait till you walk in on him jacking off, then you'll regret it.' He says humourously, head thrown back as he laughs at his own joke.

'Hardly. He wouldn't masturbate if we glued his hands to his cock and forced porn into his eyes,'

... Hmmm.

Emmett laughs again, loudly before guesturing towards the door so I leave him to sleep…If that's _really_ what he's going to do... Why did I have to say that?

Jasper is in his armchair when I come back down the stairs, looking like he's watching TV but he's laughing despite the fact the news is on. The news is never funny to a history fanatic.

'Why do you want to corrupt him?' He asks, trying with great failure to hide the smile. The guy isn't an idiot and I left the door open in Emmett's room while speaking to him... I'm also not really hiding the collection of porn in my hands…he would've seen it anyway.

'Everyone needs a little corruption some time.'

He laughs loudly this time, shaking his head. 'You are so _bad_.'

'I know.' I say grinning, heading towards the front door. I'm going to stop off at the lingerie store downtown not for me, I don't want to think about that at all, not with work so soon. Though I've been clever today by wearing thick underwear, totally unflattering, totally unsexy. Safe. Good.

'Jaz?'

'Hmm?' His eyes don't leave the TV.

'Err, don't tell Alice about this…she'd only be pissed off.'

She'll be 'pissed off' because I'm totally destroying that fucking fake Saint shit. If he's going to undress in front of me he can say goodbye to the whole innocence routine and go and shag someone before I do something I regret.

Jasper chuckles. 'Secrets safe…good luck.'

My plan is already laid out in my head and after searching around in the adult store, I finally find the toy section. I grab the guy his own collection of lube because he needs it then a pair of fluffy handcuffs (only because they don't have normal ones) and another raunchy DVD or so, including one with a doctor and a nurse role-playing on it because I'm a fucking comedienne. They don't cost much. Enough that I'm a fucking idiot for buying it when I have to save for funding my whole life, but also enough that it'll save us both loads of money for the therapy we'll need if I do _accidently_ jump on his dick.

With that, I chuck them in the boot of my car without a second glance and with a distracted mind, head to work.


	10. Reasons why boundaries are overrated

_**Please don't forget to leave a little comment of what you thought, just so I know how I'm doing :P ! I'm always super lucky for any opinion/review/follow/favourite to this story and couldn't be more grateful for the support. Especially you Goldielover!**_

 _ **Thanks!**_

* * *

This afternoon, it seems I am the luckiest person in the world because after a whole evening of tentative arguments...it's my boss's day off. Which means I can do my job and do it well without constantly looking over my shoulder. It also means my short shift shoots by.

In fact, I'm leaning on my knees, scrubbing the tiled floor when I get an unexpected visitor. Well. As unexpected as he can be.

'Hi?' I say questionably He's a little out of breath, his thick straw-like strands of light-gold are stuck up in weird angles from the wind. He is literally wind-swept. Bless.

'Hey, just thought I'd come get a coffee.'

He's a real shit liar.

'It's closing time…' I remind him, sinking my butt onto the heels of my trainers and pointing with a shabby bandaged hand to the clock on across the wall. The door literally says closed. He can read.

He knows this. He fidgets where he stands a little, rubbing a hand through his blonde hair in an attempt to flatten it. Shame really, I was liking the Elvis look. In fact I'm about to mention this when I change my mind and just appreciate the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to gather his breath. If it's closing time then he barely finished about 30 minutes ago. Blimey, somebody's keen.

'Oh really? Damn…What time do you finish?' His attempt to be nice is completely transparent. I see through his plan, especially when he scans the room eagerly looking for the person in question.

My heart builds a little. He's come to pick me up. He doesn't realise my boss isn't working. What a sweetheart.

'In five minutes.' I say, unable to hide my smile. But I'm only smiling because of his surprise later…AHAAHAHAA. Well, that and the fact he sprinted out of his way to meet me after work.

'Can I have a lift back home?' he asks, his voice a little husky where he ran so far in such a short space of time. He's lucky Tilly isn't working today, she'd be all over this situation. I am too.

'Sure.'

I tell him to go find a seat closest to the front door and try to avoid catching his eyes as I finish my task at hand. He's wearing his white shirt with longer tracksuit bottoms but he doesn't look sweaty and he's quickly regaining that lost breath. So stupidly, while he's out of sight I try to comb through parts of my fluffy hair to make it seem more presentable.

I leave a note for what needs to be done tomorrow in the back and lock up before leading Cullen to my crappy little car in the parking lot and asking about his day but he quickly interrupts.

'Can I take that for you?' he offers, holding his arm out for the bag with my uniform in.

'No…' I say but I'm sounding suspicious again.

He looks odd in my car but doesn't make any comment and in fact jumps out to open the door for me. I hang back to grab the stuff from the boot but they're concealed in a bag that he doesn't think twice to look at.

And now I know why he can't stop smiling at me. When I walk into the house, the whole living room is filled with shit loads of submission papers. I raise an eyebrow at him. I thought he was at WORK. Cheeky bastard.

'I've filled a lot of them out for you, you just need to sign them.' He says proudly, leading me in with a tentative step. He's nervous for my reply which he should be considering I _refused_ to re-apply. But the number of papers, the mass of effort that has gone into such a bold and risky move...

I'm touched.

Annoyingly, this is how I spend my evening; filling in loads of forms, pretending as if I never had anything else planned when Edward comes downstairs in the search for food. We're too busy to acknowledge him and he's not interested. I'm just filling out the same form over and over again. Anything to keep Cullen happy. Especially considering he might not be very happy with me later on... Or actually, maybe he might be _very_ happy with me.

Unlike Edward's fleeting appearance, Cullen sits with me the whole time, either placing the papers in envelopes and stamping them (which must have added up to a small fortune) or writing on the front of them for me.

'How many is that?' I ask eventually.

We've been writing for over 3 hours. My hands are killing me, I'm a little hungry but more than that I'm eager to put my plan in action…

Though I don't know why.

'One-o-four' He says smiling, he's flexing his writing hand like I was doing a second ago. My bra is fucking killing me but because I don't really know if he's going to play the crazy curious or the totally innocent, I don't take it off. Despite the fact he totally tried to strip in front of me earlier, I can't be arsed to play chicken.

'I think that's it for the night.' I say, licking the last envelope and folding it down. He yawns and stretches his arms out widely so that his shirt lifts slightly to show that little line of hair.

Mmm….

'Sure you're not hungry?' He asks, frowning.

'I might be later.' HAHAHAHAHA. 'Anyway, I kinda need your help with something?'

This seems to have the opposite effect. He's immediately panicky.

'Is everything okay?!' He's thinking the worst which makes me feel a little guilty but I don't adhere to it.

'Yeah, of course...it's just a delicate matter…' I point upstairs and stand up.

He sighs frustratingly, his warm breath hitting the skin inbewteen my shoulder blades. I shiver gleefully. Until I realise that he's thinking I'm about to ask him to check my vag. Nevertheless, he collects the paper into piles on the sofa and with a measured step follows me to his room.

It looks the same as I left it. The covers, for once, are where I left them, curled to the top of the bed, the pillow still holding the indent of my awkward position. To the right of the bed the desk is against the wall. He has more medical journals poured on top of it, laying half open, littered with pens and paper. The box of gloves has been put away as has the numerous tubs. Hilarious.

'I can get you more Lidocaine if you need it?' he offers, looking a little confused, waiting for me to turn on the light. I think for now I prefer to leave him in the dark.

'That would be helpful.' I say, playing along, fluttering my eyelashes heavily. 'For now, just stay here, I'll be right back…'

He's _completely_ confused and falls to sit his butt on the mattress.

When I return, bag of supplies in-tow, he's leaning against the headboard, neck resting on the leather, eyes heavy with sleep but still curious and his spine curved towards me. He taken off his shoes, pretty much settled down ready to collapse in his sheer exhaustion. I should just let him sleep...

It's too late out back out now.

'What are you up to?' he murmurs, raising one eyebrow as he studies both the jutting out of my hips and the bag I'm holding. Whatever he's thinking, he's not close. The look on his face suggests he thinks we're about to watch a film of some kind. _Ha, he is.  
_

I can't help but adopt a more playful part of myself when I go to sit to the left of his oustretched legs, perched on the edge of the bed ready to pounce. This is sexy Esme, and why the hell she's rearing her head at the moment I'll never know but I let her stay. He watches me in silence, his mouth curved as he tries to put his attention to what is in the bag but rather curiously... he can't seem to bring himself to tear his eyes away... from me. Blimey, maybe Sexy-Esme is better than she looks.

Or maybe he's just frightened, hurry up and get out of there, Platt.

With a teasingly light touch I trace his left hand with my tips of my fingers, leaving a trail of goosebumps along him arms. He doesn't say anything and doesn't move so while I have him exactly where I want him, I act quickly and clip his wrist against the railing of his bed faster than Roadrunner would run.

'Kinky?' He whispers to himself in a chuckle and my heart nearly comes falling out my ass.

KINKY?! _KINKY_?! From _Carlisle_ Cullen?! What the heck?! WHERE THE HECK DID THAT COME FROM?! He so knows I heard him, mainly because my jaw is on the floor and the skin around his cheeks are painted with an obscene pink.

'What on earth are you up to?' He asks in an attempt to distract us both from the fact he's just said the word _KINKY_. WHAT THE FUCK.

When I grin at him, playfully throwing in a shrug he seems to foolishly accept this as an answer and despite the bright red fluffy handcuffs locking his arm away, he settles down into the bed as if he's about to sleep. What the heck does he think I'm doing? Offering a massage?! Who is this guy?!

I pull his legs, with struggle, closer to the opposite side of the bed, and place the laptop in front of him, close to his hip but just out of reach. The screen is all black, I have yet to press play. He still looks charmingly interested. That guy has faaar too much faith in me.

'Give me your hand.' My voice is huskier than planned and I fight to clear it.

He rattles the chain playfully before, with a weary grin, giving me his right hand, I'm fighting my laughter and because he's so focused on me, he doesn't see me place an open jar on the table closest to him.

It's genuine surprise. Not once has he questioned my intentions or what the fuck is going on.

'What the?!'

Until now. Better be quick.

So I coat his hand in the viscous fluid (which is a bit of a turn on). My touch threads the silky liquid through his fingers, soft and wet to the flat space of his palm, massaging every inch of his whole hand in the lube.

He's beginning to become suspcious. He's frowning, his eyes watching me with alarming curiosity. Yet his mouth stays closed.

'There's a few films on the side if you don't enjoy this one…' I inform him, nodding my head to the bed side table. He doesn't give them a proper look despite the fact I've angled the titles so he can read them.

'What are you doing?' He sounds untrusting now though still very amused. I can pretty much hear his heart beating away, his breath thinning out. Or is that me?

'And if you get anything on this laptop…I'll kill you.' I place baby wipes and tissue near to his chained hand and a towel by my feet. He'll be able to grab them if he tries but for now he's too stunned to put the puzzle together.

'What are you on about?'

Oh yeah, _now_ he asks the questions.

I crawl onto the bed so that I'm sitting between the space of his legs. He looks nervous, his lips slightly parted with his face turned upwards, closer to mine. He doesn't shift his warming eyes when I press play on the laptop. He's only looking at me.

'What is going on?' He whispers, his smirk faltering slightly in a way that makes him unbearingly sexy.

'I'm helping you out.' Comes the reply once I've finally recovered my lost confidence. 'I'm helping you stray away from that façade of innocence and letting you be a real hormonal young adult.'

English apparently becomes a foreign language to him. It takes a while for his brain to translate this into rational actions.

'A _hormonal_ wha?' He questions, staring at me with complete perplexity written on every inch of his rapidly-colouring face. 'But I'm not innocent?!'

'I know you're not. Not really. So, you're welcome.'

A hungry moan and flash of bare flesh from the laptop eventually catches his attention and those dark midnight orbs flash to look before widening to extreme measures. And just like that, every inch of pale skin slowly starts to turn red in a hot flush of...well what I think is embarrassment but who can be sure?

'Oh _God_.'

He goes to throw his only free hand over his eyes but for the first time realises it's coated in some sort of slippery stuff. He looks a little mad, not as mad as he was yesterday when we were arguing but almost mad at himself? He's basically panicking because he doesn't understand what the fuck is going on.

To be fair, I don't either and while I'm still a little detatched from the scene as he is, I hover close above, as if I'm about to make a move. His gaze returns to only my face despite the fact he would probably be able to see my chest if he looked down. His whole focus, breathing shallow, frown heavy, lips parted, is all on me. He's distracted. So while he's distracted, I gently put my hands very close to his hips and tear off both trousers and underwear in a magician's flourish.

'Jesus _Christ_ , Esme!'

It's a fucking surprise I manage both not to faint and not to look because if I was to look, I would've fainted. The fact a body as beautiful as that is kinda naked on that bed is just…you know… _thrilling_.

He scrambles up and crosses his legs over so I can't see anything which is fine because I can't see anything anyway.

'You'll get the key back in an while.' I say grinning.

'Key?!' He hisses, forcing an unfamiliar tone to his voice. He doesn't sound angry though, not even slightly. Maybe a little embarrasssed but more...aghast.

He's red all over (well I'm not sure about _there_ ) glaring to the corner of his bedroom walls trying not to either look at me or the screen let alone even _think_ about what's happening right now.

'Don't you dare!' He warns, watching my cautious feet glide away from him and toward the door.

'Oh loosen up Cullen. Masturbating is _fun_!'

I'm almost certain that I hear him gasp when I slam his door shut. But I ignore that and head to my bedroom where I deliberately play my music a little louder to give him the privacy he needs. I _could_ hear him yelling and cursing me but now the music's on, it's almost silent.

This situation would've been a whole lot easier to deal with had I not been turned on, too.

* * *

When I knock on the door a good two hours later, there's no reply…uh oh…He must be pissed off which immediately makes me feel like some insanely disgustingly vile creature, humilated in my own act of help.

Even if I didn't see anything.

I knock again and hear the slightest whine but not much else. So I tentatively push the door. The towel that I'd placed on the floor is covering his bottom half, half coated in the lube from his hand. His t-shirted chest billows out, the muscles almost on display as he takes a heavy breath. He's asleep?

Oh. Now I feel like I've been incredibly sinister.

With great amounts of shame, I move the already closed laptop from the bed and place it on the floor beside me. Then I remove the other profanities from the bed so I can pull the duvet over him in an act of concealment. Using one of the baby wipes, I awkwardly wipe the dried lube from his hand and place it on his chest (the arm obviously, not the wipe, I'm not evil).

Reaching for the key in his drawer, I lean over and unlock his sore wrist from the bedpost. Then gently I place that to his side, too, being careful not to apply pressure to the area of skin that the metal braclet eroded. The breathing is lighter now and he looks surprisingly peaceful which I don't deserve. I didn't even think about the fact he's been up late for the past two nights, worked really early this morning and today then stayed up to help me sign the submission forms.

Goddammit Esme. Why'd you have to such an arshole? Especially when he looks so sweet and so peaceful and so… _innocent_. My stomach feels like I'm holding acid so I silently turn the lights off and grab my laptop to leave him in peace.

'Esme?'

The sound is barely above a whisper and when I stand on my tiptoes to peek a look at him, I see his eyes are still closed.

' _Sorry_ , I didn't mean to wake you.' There's a lot of emphasis on the first word in anattempt to soothe my bad life choices.

'Esme?' He repeats, slightly heavier but still no louder than a whisper. I should be saying sorry again…sorry for being a totally shit flatmate and a worse friend and kinda forcing him into a tensely arousing scenario….

'Yeah?' My voice is shaking in apprehension but it shouldn't be because when I sqit to look at his face it looks like he's smirking?!

'I use my left hand…'

…

 _Urgh_ … With that, I slam the door shut.

* * *

The next day goes okay-ish. After posting over half of my applications and physically handing in the rest of the them at the student office I'm told I have to create and submit a canvas piece before they even consider me.

'Well, what did they say about it?' Edward asks once I cross the threshold of our welcome mat. I didn't see Carlisle this morning, he started _really_ early and he's got a very long shift so I probably won't see him after work either…I'm starting to question whether I _want_ to see him. I crossed a line yesterday. A line which he didn't seem too pissed at me for crossing. But still a line.

Fuck.

And I don't know when I've got to return those DVDs.

'They said I should create something individual of my other pieces. ' _Dont just paint what I see_ '…whatever that means.' I grumble, throwing the phone to him so he can read over the same email. He sighs before taking a mouthful of cereal and shrugging.

I hate it when he eats at the piano. Either play it or don't, don't use it as a fucking table.

'So they're saying to add a bit of fantasy to your paintings…I think?'

'So paint what I see but don't paint what I see?' I might aswell play the monke scratching my forehead.

'No, it's just a case of painting what you see but changing things. Make the flowers bluer and brighter, make the castle gloomier and darker, make the sky lighter and bolder-'

'I get the picture.' I sigh. Ironically, I don't.

'Don't be nervous. Whatever you do willl be fine.' He tries to reassure, smiling crookedly through the spoon in his gob.

'I don't want it fine, I want it phenomenal' I complain, flicking through the channels on the TV. I'm ready for work, waiting at the mercy of the teenager to leave. Edward has offered me a lift seeing as my car is currently sitting at Rose's home.

That makes me nervous.

Although I haven't spoken to him, Carlisle left another note to say he's going to get my exhaust sorted for me... by the stranger girl who hates my guts…or everyone's guts, whatever.

All in all, it's not the worst day in the world but it's not great either. I'm working with Tilly today, my boss is back and even though he doesn't do _a lot_ (apart from pinch my ass every two seconds and wink at me), I can feel him watching me. Especially when Edward picks me up come-6 O'clock despite home being within walking distance.

Unfortunately for me, because of Cullen's (granted; sweet) interference, my boss has become unusually suspicious. And from there, my strangely erotic evening from yesterday is washed away with the concerns and fears of this weird job.

I go for a bit of a run when we get home, try to get something out of my system but does it help? Does it heck! And next thing I know is that I'm curled up in bed with a shitty film on, consuming more antibotics for the sake of my burns and trying to create _something_.

The door goes about eleven thirty in the evening and I resist the temptation to go downstairs and see him…to see what last night has done to him. What my 'over-stepping-the-boundaries' has done to the dynamic of our ' _friendship_ '.

About 20 minutes later, there's a tentative knock at my door.

'It's open.' I sigh, throwing the stupid sketch book across the room.

Carlisle flinches when it bounces of the wall noisily…I often forget I'm living in his _home_ and not just some rented place.

'Sorry…' I mutter, pulling at the cover so that he can sit on the bed. He's holding a bowl of food, smiling, surprisingly comforting and surprisingly normal…or as normal as you can get with the two of us nowadays.

'Edward said you haven't eaten.'

Of course he did. I take the bowl from him gratefully and automatically eat. I shouldn't complain too much, his food is good.

'Thanks.'

He stays quiet, quieter than the last few days but I think that's because I'm such a cold hearted bitch today when he was expecting my tongue in cheek teasing. I'm not in the mood…not particularly out of the mood either, just somewhere in a weird mood purgatory.

Whatever the heck that means.

'How'd work go?' His voice is gentle and his eyes are on my laptop screen where I'm watching some shitty horror film. Typical him with his timing, he's walked in and he clearly thinks I'm watching porn till I pause it for him and the original title page comes up. Now he smirks at himself. I'm still grumpy about my pervy boss.

'Fine.' I mutter quickly and out of no where, the words come tumbling from under my breath; 'Should be grateful, he only grabbed my ass today.'

However, I often forget about the Saint's impeccable hearing.

' _What_?' His frown is on me in a second. His blue eyes are concerned, his tone direct… he sounds frightened.

FUCK.…I forgot I hadn't mentioned the thigh thing properly.

'Never mind…shit joke.' I say.

It's clearly not. He's quiet…thinking to himself, over thinking, over calculating and literally looking like he's about to vomit panicked accusations at me. I can't bear the silence.

'Since he looked at my thigh on Sunday, he's been a lil'friendly, that's all...' I sigh trying to play it off. I have to look away from him.

'What did he _do_?!' The words are acidic and his posture matches. He doesn't know where to stand, where to put his arms so he deals with leaning away from me with his fists curled.

'It doesn't matter.' I tell him, not able to face those furious blue eyes. I've never seen the guy look so enraged.

'He touched your -?!'

'Not exactly-' I lie, buting in. STUPID FUCKING MOTOR MOUTH. Exactly that…His thick hands and the long fingernails playing with the exposed sore skin…and now I can't eat.

'Look, I don't really want to think about it- just leave it?' I beg, not looking at him still. Even after yesterday, I don't want him to think badly of me.

Yesterday _pfft_. How quickly moods change.

'He touched you without your permission?' He sounds like a judge. If that judge had just found out he was facing the murderers of his family.

'Carlisle-'

'Did he?' He interrupts me, scarily calm that all I can think is that he is so furious that he's crossing over into the insane-territory.

I sneak a look at him and wish that I hadn't. His expression is stone cold, the opposite of earlier and even if I wanted to, I couldn't decipher the things running through his head. I'm thinking about ignoring him but that's not going to work.

'Technically.' I say quietly.

He stands up immediately, already heading out my door before I frantically pull him back by his sleeve, one handed, my panic racing out my skull. I've never seen him so uncharacteristically pissed. He wasn't even like this when I called him gay. He's tense and shaking up from some strange fury so I don't release his shirt from my grip just yet.

'You didn't exactly give me your permission yesterday.' I remind him, gently. I don't want to put the two situations together but I can't see him listening to anything else.

'That was completely different.' He argues sounding alarmed. 'I didn't know what you were going to do!'

'Exactly. I didn't know what he was doing either.'

Still don't.

'But you didn't act on your own sexual gratification!' He groans,

Nope, I acted on yours. _Well_ …

I don't want to tell him that he's wrong. Not only did I sleep incredibly well last night but ever since he said _those_ words, my insides have been bubbling just thinking of him.

'We've already had this argument!' I complain, pulling him back down to the bed and taking my hand back to use as a cover for my mouth. I'm worried what else will escape. He complies but is still coiled. I want to smooth the harsh lines of anger away, it doesn't suit his face. I don't move.

'No we haven't! I thought you were fed-up not that you'd been _assaulted_!' His voice is loud and part of me panics about Edward overhearing.

But I still can't help but scoff. 'It's hardly assault. We both know how open I am about sex.'

He looks like he's about to explode on the spot. He's so over-dramatic.

'That does _not_ give anybody the right to touch you without your _permission_!'

I can't say anything. What would I say anyway? I just look away from his concern and keep my nose pointing towards my bedding.

'You're getting out of there.' He vows, a dark tone to his voice as he tries to regain composure. But he's shaking his head in disgust.

'I'm trying!' I mutter defensively. I nod my head to the multiple balls of screwed up paper on the floor 'But I can't think of anything to submit!'

Judging by his expression, he's already spoken to Edward about this. He forces himself to soften up and goes to put a hand on my shoulder before changing his mind. He's clearly relieved by the change in conversation but his whole posture is still forced. If I wasn't sat next to Cullen, I'd say he look like he wanted to go commit some kind of physical assault, himself.

But to accuse the Saint of such a thing was beyond absurd.

'You'll find something…' he promises. 'And when you do, the scholarship will be yours.'

I do something that even I find surprising. I lay my head against his bicep, not deliberately, just emotionally. Unconsciously, he opens up his position so I move to bury myself in the chest of his shirt instead, hiding my tired eyes and my utter desolation. My nose instantly recognises the smell of surgical disinfectant, a sweet kind of aftershave and a familar _warmth_. He doesn't move for a few seconds then slowly, as if not to frighten me, wraps an arm around my back and strokes his palm along my spine in a slow and calming manner…a move very unlike him.

And yet it feels kinda natural to be there.

'Don't go into work tomorrow…' He whispers to my hair.

'I have to.'

I'm incredibly lucky he's wearing a t-shirt so I don't intoxicate myself in just enjoying the boundaries of this new friendship. How hard could you push a friendship until it broke? What am I even saying?

'Say you're ill. Spend the day with me and we'll find something for you to submit.'

I laugh gently before pulling away to look at him, my eyes undoubtedly sore with the threat of unjust tears. He's never like this. Not even slightly. And neither am I. I've wasted four years of my life not really knowing him at all. It's embarrassing.

'You know I can't do that…' I sigh, smoothing my fringe down again. Grumpy or not, I don't want to look a freak next to Adonis over here.

'Why not? Everyone gets ill. Phone now.'

Is this really happening?! Is Cullen persuading me _not_ to go into work?! Like I need persuading!

'I'll think about it,' I sigh.

He reaches behind to place the rest of dinner into my hands.

'Eat something, first.' He encourages before standing up. 'I'm going to study for a little bit.'

Why does he always leave too soon?

I wave him out of my room before immediately phoning the Coffee-House and making up some bullshit about being ill and won't be able to make it in tomorrow. So much for _thinking_ about it. Finally, I eat what I can of dinner, which isn't really much, before curling up and watching the rest of the film to eventually fall asleep.


	11. Reasons why Cullen is an ass-et

**_Hope you enjoy_**

* * *

At about four in the morning, there's a restrained knock at my door. As you may have been able to tell, I'm an irritable little cow when it comes to sleep and so I barely even answer. The knock is persistent.

'What?' I breathe, avoiding the lamp light by hiding my fluffy head in my bedsheets.

'I wondered if you wanted to go paint the sunrise?'

Man this guy is a fairy-tale.

'No.' I say, burying my face once again. The sting of light is burning my eyes.

'Are you sure?' He asks, disappointed. He's still hanging around the door letting a chill in.

'Yes.' I'm still half asleep, I want him to be quiet before I throw something.

'It might help with the _whole new world_ theme they want going on?' He suggests, whispering because some of us _ARE STILL FUCKING SLEEPING_. Those blue eyes are on my back.

I'm still in tracksuits and an old t-shirt from yesterday. I didn't even bother getting changed because I'm that gross of a person. But I can barely be arsed to take that into account. My eyes are no doubt purple in exhaustion. I finally lift my heavy head and look at him with tired bloodshot sight. He looks a little shy like he didn't want to wake me. But he still did it. Great choice. Well done _you_.

'It's been done a thousand times.' I murmur, surprisingly lucid considering how dead I feel.

'Ahh right, yes, sorry. Just thought I'd ask…'

It's damn thoughtful, I should be appreciating the thought behind it and stop being a lazy so-and-so but Goddamn, I need several more hours of unconciousness.

Though he's still lingering about.

'Cullen?' I've closed my eyes again, still picturing his posture behind my closed lids.

'Hmm?'

He hasn't moved from my door; his weight will be against the frame still, hands in his pockets in that all too well known 'rogue nerd guy image'. He's waiting for an instruction.

'You _can_ sit down?'I say obviously, concealing an amused smirk in the cold side of my pillow.

'Yeah -Urgh- _Thank_ you, I mean. I just thought. Well. I'll better leave you to sleep.'

'I'm awake now.' I yawn, the words barely being more than sounds as they tumble, without direction, from my mouth. _Just_. And not through choice… Notice the anger behind it. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don't _ever_ wake up a girl unless you can help it.

'Barely,' he replies, laughing, still unable to simply wander back to his own room because he seems to have found something that has caught his entertainment. Maybe he's bored? Maybe he's lonely? I don't give a shit- I just want to be warm and asleep.

'Offer still stands,' I remind softly. I really don't know whether to be thrilled that he's a real gentleman or damn right irritated, just close the Goddamn door.

Just like yesterday, I think he's about to leave but then my bed squeaks a little. He tries his best to make little movement as he settles down and kicks off his shoes. My surprise is obvious and I simplyy have to open a rooked eye to prove that he did actually choose to join me.

He's sitting up in my bed, clearly too wide awake to go back and sleep and already sort of dressed looking as if he's prepared to simply _wait_.

Typical him.

'What the-?' He sucks in a breath and removes the offending item from beneath where he's sitting. When I open an eye properly to look at him I see he's holding the bottom of my vibrator, looking ridiculously pale as he, essentially, sizes it up.

While this is another very funny image, I can't even bear to acknowledge it right now and so I only let out a small giggle. I'll give him this: having his weight and his warmth in the bed is genuinely comforting and it's _really_ not long before I'm walking along to dreamland again.

* * *

When I wake up properly, I'm in a good mood. Which is one hell of a surprise. I unwrap myself from my cocoon of blankets and stretch into a downward dog and upward cat or whatever the hell they call it.

'Morning.' He greets, not lifting an eye from the book in his grip.

He's got a knee up, the other one resting over the edge of the bed, his head is resting against his hand which is placed against the wall just above the bed railings and with the other, he's turning the pages of the book he has resting against the knee.

All he needs is thick spectacles and he'd be a perfect 1950's husband.

I look closer to the title. It was the book I had on my bedside table. I really must be in a great mood this morning because I'm laughing already.

'Thrilling literature,' he murmurs, frowning as he reads on.

I guess _thrilling_ is kind of correct.

'What bit are you on?' I ask, trying not to snigger in his face. He's doing better at concealing his entertainment.

'They've just come home from the boat house.' He sighs, snapping it shut and placing it back into its usual place. My _my_ , what a raunchy bit and does he seem interested?

Of course he doesn't. He seems wound up.

'I really thought you would have better taste.' He mutters, fighting the smile. He pinches his eyes shut and rubs them. I've had an extra six hours sleep. I've slept for a good eleven hours and I'm feeling very well rested. _Very well_ rested.

'Had to see what the fuss is all about.' I reply shrugging. I'm not embarrassed because it really is a book that I am not a huge fan of. Sure, there's elements which naturally get your heart going and your knees melting (i.e. the boat house scene) but the characters are arseholes.

'And?' He asks.

'You tell me, what do you think so far?'

'I think its horseshit.'

Did I mention he doesn't swear much? Because even though he just has, I'm laughing even more.

'You can't judge it by its cover.' I say smirking.

He picks it up again and shows us both the front: _50 Shades of Grey_ in a harsh font. We're both critiquing it. It's boringly unoriginal.

'You're right but after 20 chapters in, I've decided it's ridiculous.' He's still smiling, pouting a little. We rarely read the same type of literature so I'm glad we have this to now delve in to. Though I'm equally as frustrated that he's decided to give up at chapter 20 after reading for so long.

How fast of a reader can the Saint be?!

'Go on…' I encourage.

He doesn't even look tired whereas I know for a fact I'm a huge mess, I feel it all over. I'm wondering if it's inappropriate to ask him to massage my back? Maybe.

'Why is it hot to get touched up in the middle of a family dinner?! That's disturbing!'

I'm laughing. He's charmingly playful.

'And what the hell is with the ball things?! One minute, she's a Virgin, next she's shoving metal up there!'

'I can relate.' I joke, shrugging my shoulders carelessly. He plays his part well.

That smart mouth of his falls open.

'I'm _joking_.' I explain quickly before he does faint on me, 'It certainly is a little crazy…'

'Who takes their _girlfriend_ to meet the parents and then has sex with them on the same property?! And the whole selfishness of it! How can you refuse someone the right to-'

 _Orgasm_ is what he's trying to say. But he just can't _come_ to it. Ha.

I love the fact that he's wound up. It means in a roundabout way that he's as frustrated as the book wants to leave you, even if his crotch doesn't adhere. It's also hilarious he's still as ridiculous to think about manners as a guest, too.

I snigger. 'Parents only see what they wanna see.'

'Not all parents.' He corrects but we both know we're not referring to either of ours. Last time I saw my mother, we had a huge argument and she called me a slut, my father who I adore to pieces, died several years ago. Hence why I've travelled away to go to college.

He thinks about what I've just said and jumps to conclusions. He's thinking I had sex in my parents' home (which isn't as crazy as it sounds) but the thought still seems foreign to him.

'You didn't?' He groans, closing his eyes and looking away.

I'm no _Ana Steel_ and my family is certainly not rich enough for a boat house.

'Yes I lost my virginity in that house.' I explain, he sighs a little relieved. 'I'm not saying that I'd suddenly shack up with whoever in my old bedroom though, that's pretty weird.'

Especially when I'm 98% sure, I still have my Spice girl's posters in there. No one wants to look up from whoever they're with to see Baby spice glaring at you…Perhaps this is why I found myself in the parent's bed on Saturday…Ew.

He shudders. 'God, just the very thought…' He makes a face and I laugh about ten times harder.

'We're all _slaves_ to our desires.' I tease. 'I guess you'll realise that on Friday.'

He's clearly forgotten because he frowns at me.

'Tilly's coming round for coffee?' I remind him. Who has coffee in the evening?! Bleh.

He makes a face. 'Oh right, yes, it completely slipped my mind.'

Of _course_ it did.

'Speaking of parents, did you ever get back in touch with the guy from Saturday?'

I'm annoyed he's mentioned it. I never normally do so I don't know why he's asking, I think it's a weird way of trying to question if I planned to do more than hook up with the guy. Which is an obvious _no_ surrounded by barbed wire.

'You really don't get the concept of a one night stand, do you?' I mock, combing my hair out of my face.

'No it's just that…someone keeps leaving a message on the answer phone, I'm going to assume it's that guy?'

I didn't give him my number.

That means it's only one other person.

SHIT….

'Did you answer it?' My voice sounds a little nervous.

'No, it was like a text message sent to the answer phone. Didn't leave a number.'

I gulp. 'What did it say?'

'Thinking of you…' he quotes, nudging my side playfully, I let my face fall to the pillow and groan.

I hate men!

Or most men!

I wouldn't be opposed to a certain few men on top of me all day everyday however….

'What?' He doesn't understand. He's still smiling and because of how crazy he reacted yesterday, I don't want to spoil his mood. Or mine any more than I have to.

'Just boys!' I complain.

'Those who play with fire get burnt.' He says, sticking his nose in the air like the Saint he his.

'Hardly a fire, let alone a spark more like a blip before it faded…'

He stops for a moment. 'Is that some kind of reference to your lack of sexual appetite?'

He really is innocent.

'It's more like a reference to my appetite and their lack of service.' I reply, daringly. He laughs shortly, though his cheeks are pink. He's not well accustomed to my flirting…if you'd call it flirting.

'Remind me to never get on your bad side.' He sighs, watching as I detangle myself from my duvet.

' _Honey_ , you couldn't get on my bad side if you _wanted_ it.' I really am pushing the borders of friendship. His smile falters a little but he snaps it back in place.

'Is that another-'

I sigh. ' _Yes!_ '

There's a pause until we both laugh.

That's a weird thing to think about. It's surprisingly comfortable having him in my room, like it's just me and Alice having a girly chit-chat but this is far more raunchy and far more entertaining. His reactions are better than Alice's would be too.

And he's not as rude.

'Did you want any breakfast?' he stands up, he's clearly hungry and hasn't eaten. Especially not if he's got that far into the book already.

I shake my head.

'Sure? I'm thinking we could go for a hike later?'

I roll my eyes. 'You and your bloody exercise!' I retort. Though a hike does sound fun. He's smiling, waiting for me to change my mind. 'Sure.'

'Okay!' We both seem to be ignoring the fact that his enthusiasm is a little out of character. 'I'll see you down stairs then?'

'Thank youuu!' I sing as he closes the door.

Despite the awkward answer phone message that I have yet to greet, I'm feeling genuinely happy. So much so that once I'm showered, I grab my camera and head downstairs.

Edward has lessons today, which you can tell from the way he's left his notebook over the piano. Clearly forgotten it in the rush. While I am in a good mood, I'm also still myself so I take a flick through it to see what he's written about, obviously not caring too much. And as suspected, I've hit the jackpot.

He's not an amazing artist but he _is_ good. He's doodled little animals in the back of the book followed by drawings of Bella. She looks very beautiful but also a lot less shy, braver and bolder. I couldn't never imagine her as such.

No offence to the girl obviously.

'Spying are we?'

I take the bowl from his hands and quickly thank him. He's looking over my shoulder to look at the drawings.

'It's sweet he thinks of her in this way. She was just shy and sort-of bumbly when I met her….' I explain.

He moves the paper to take a closer look.

'It's still her though.' He's looking at the colour of the mouth, how he's shaped her face.

'Hardly.' I mumble, trying to conceal my patronising snort of laughter.

'He's just drawing what he sees.'

Now he's not just a Saint he's a bloody romantic, too. Give it a few hours and he'll be writing romantic poetry on a lake.

'Or what he wants?' I correct.

He sighs. Ever the sweetheart, our landlord.

'Maybe it's the kind of lesson that _you_ should adopt….' He suggests.

I just stare at him. He's worried that the words have offended me. I'm more surprised.

'You think I should paint what I want?' I say, doubting him because I'm not painting Bella so help me…I painted what I wanted for the last submission and it didn't get me very far.

'No I think you should paint something that only you see. That's individual to you, almost…'

So when did he become the art expert?

My mind wonders. It's a nice idea really, and it would surely catch someone's attention but the idea was one thing… I couldn't think of anything I could see in a perspective that other people saw differently.

'It's a thought,' I say taking a spoonful of breakfast. It's weird, we haven't done anything and I'm already glad I called in sick…I feel _better_ already.

He sits in the armchair where he usually does, listening to this morning's news highlights.

It's been a long time since I've had breakfast and as good as it tastes, it makes me feel automatically heavier. But he has put honey in the yogurt for me which he knows I like.

He's catching up on the weather which is meant to be good for the rest of the day, I'm just hoping I'm not going to bump into anyone on our way there. Knowing my luck, I'll run into Tilly who'll tell my boss and I'll be in shit…

'Where are you thinking of heading then?' I ask, chewing slowly on the dried fruit. It almost looks colour coordinated in the bowl…another thing I like to do with my food…

He shrugs. 'Well we could either go through the Western heights to the cliffs or through the valleys?'

The Western heights is nearer the sea, the valleys are back towards the canal and by far an easier walk. But I'm feeling good.

'Clifftops.' I decide. He's already finished his food and is holding onto the bowl, waiting for me to finish… He has a long time to wait. Like usual his portion sizes are double what I usually nibble on. But he has made an extra effort so I try my best to be grateful.

'Are you sure?' I hate when he does this. He thinks that because he does shit tonnes of exercise and the rest of the world doesn't, that we'll all struggle up some hill or whatever.

'Of course.' I say quickly.

'It is considered a _mini mountain_ …' He reminds me.

'I know!' I say defensively. He decides to leave it (good choice) and lets me eat in silence while flicking through another news channel.

His father is on the news again, but he flicks straight past it without even a seconds glance.

'No, go back!' I demand through a mouthful of food, pointing to the TV in excitement. He sighs and changes the channel before heading into the kitchen to avoid it.

I listen to the report.

'He's building another church again.' I call into the kitchen.

'Is he now.' He sounds uninterested, a little grumpy maybe.

The woman on the news is raving about how much of a good person he is. He doesn't look anything like Carlisle. Not really. Maybe the same pale skin but that's literally it. You wouldn't be able to tell they're related.

'For an orphanage apparently?' I continue, greedily taking another spoonful. It's yummy and I'm suddenly hungry.

'Very nice.' He's very blunt.

'' _For the work of God_ ' or something,' I quote, reading the headline.

He doesn't even answer me, just buries himself in the washing up.

His father is asking for religious artwork and paintings to help bring about the love of God in a time of war and destruction. He's saying that God wouldn't have wanted the world this way and that we need a war to end all wars. We already nearly had two of the damn things. He's saying that if the Western culture doesn't act now, God will smite us all.

The channel is picturing him as some fantastical prophet who has all the answers. The report ends with him saying that we'll all pay for our sins unless we don't act immediately. 'Ignorance is a sin'. He says, pointing the camera.

Back to the studio, the three panellists are praising his faith at such a time in our world. I've surprised myself by eating my whole bowlful but now my stomach hurts a little.

My saint is mumbling into the sink.

'Crazy old murderous fool.' he growls, splashing the water carelessly.

'Hey now,' I say softly, passing the bowl to him and then drying up the stuff on the drying rack. His jaw is tight, he's grinding his teeth together. 'You keep saying that and people will be thinking you have daddy issues.'

My voice is too soft. I might be in a good mood but I'm never this nice.

' _Daddy issues_?!' He repeats, disgusted.

I laugh heartily at him.

'I do _not_ have daddy issues!' He protests.

'Suuure,' I sing, nudging his hip with mine, he's literally biting his tongue, glaring at the ceramic bowl.

'What does that even _mean_?!' he complains, flicking a few of the soap bubbles at me. They float to the floor aimlessly.

'Oh you know!' I say. 'Like, people would look to me because I have sex a lot and say I have daddy issues.'

'Your father died?' He says frowning.

'Exactly, daddy-issues.'

'What?' He thinks I'm deliberately winding him up.

'Meaning that I'm accused of looking for love in the wrong places, trying to replace the _fatherly_ bond.' He looks somewhat bewildered but his anger has softened.

'And _are_ you?' he asks, frowning, ever the curious one. His curiosity saved him on many occasions.

'You tell me; I'm the one having sex with my boss.'

His laughter falls silent.

'That's not funny, Es.' I couldn't tell you why but he looks annoyed again, his blue eyes are squinted as he washes the bowl though it's perfectly clean.

'I was actually speaking about the garage manager… but there you are.' I'm still in a good mood so I take things lightly and lock away those future concerns for a later date.

'So _are_ you looking for love?' He persists. This is probably also a technique to get away from the awkward topic, which I can relate to. He doesn't look at me when he asks, he looks out the window into the garden, scowling almost at our tree. I can't read him.

'If I am, I'm not doing very well!' I say laughing.

He doesn't say anything until slowly a smile grows.

'No, of course not. I'm in my twenties. Love is the kinda thing I forget about until I mourn my chances at thirty-nine!' I tell him

He rolls his eyes and passes me the wet spoon from beneath his arm to dry in my tea-towel. I'm sitting on the island now, I jumped up just a moment ago and am now appreciating his back, those _shoulders_ though I know I shouldn't be.

Bless those shoulders.

'What about you, you're older than me. Are _you_ looking for love?' It's barely the afternoon and we're suddenly having some deep conversation… another unexpected perk of getting to know him.

I'm only watching at the back of his head but I know he's smirking.

'I'm not _looking_ , no.' He says playfully, eyes glowerng into mine before droppig to the floor.

I don't catch the hint.

'Daddy issues!' I say laughing, he cringes.

'My father's still alive.' He corrects grumpily. 'And I'm not looking for anything let alone in the wrong places.'

I nudge him with my foot. 'You're 25 and have yet to have a girlfriend.'

He sighs but he's smiling again. He turns to face me, spreading his arms along the counter as if he needs to hold his balance. That's fine with me, it gives me the excuse to gorge on his hard work.

'Alright, in the last four years when did _you_ last have a relationship?' He asks, looking gorgeously smug.

Ha, that's easy! It was with...

'And I'm not talking repetitive hook-ups…' He adds, raising an eyebrow.

Balls.

'It's not exactly the same, is it?' I grumble. He's ruining my fun.

'Look how the mighty fall.' He teases, throwing a cloth at me, I catch it before it can hit me and dry my hands with it before throwing it into the washing basket.

Ey! Score!

He's still waiting for an answer.

'Alright what about M..M…damn. Whatshisname?' I say quickly, waving my hand as if to follow the thought.

'Michael?' He offers, I click my fingers and nod.

'You never called him back. _If_ you remember?' He says, looking proud.

Goddamn him and his observantness.

'Well, you're hardly going to call Tilly back on Friday, are you?' I retort, taking a deep breath.

All he can do is offer a blank stare. It takes at least 3 seconds for him to remember and he cringes slightly at my amused 'disaproval'.

'I can't say for sure!' He tries to argue. 'In fact, I'll call back either way…'

'You'll find her more irritating than I do.' I play. I shouldn't play, I should be helping the guy out. Yeah, go Tilly. She'll be all over you. Wreck the girl.

'How mean of you, poor Tilly….' He's playing his own game now as he sniggers.

'Alright, do what you want, give her a quickie just don't come crying to me when she goes all stalker-gurl on your ass!'

'I'm sure in that scenario, you would be the last person I would turn to for help.'

'And _why_ is that?' I question, watching him carefully.

'Because you're _you_ and you'll end up getting me in more trouble than it's worth…' He says clearly.

He has me there, I'm not good at relationships. Look at the marriage I'm accidently ruining because of my weirdo boss.

'Anyway, get your shoes on, I wanna be out of here by lunch.' He taps my ankles before running off to go make up a back-pack.

Definitely no longer flatmates, I decide watching his ass.


	12. Reasons why sharing is caring

_**Thank you for the lovely reviews! So sorry about the delay. Hope this one is as enjoyable and informative as last!**_

 _ **Thank you!**_

* * *

After taking his time to pack the equivalent of a Doctor's surgery into a backpack and burdening his gorgeous shoulders with the weight, we lock up and head in the direction of the cliff-tops. Despite his warnings, it's not as strenuous as he makes it out to be. The weather is nice, a cooling warm day, enough for sunnies and crap hair and like usual, I can depend on him not to critique such choices.

To put it simply, though we mainly stay silent for the hardest part of the climb, I've never felt more relaxed. So while he does in fact lead the way for the most of the afternoon, leading me into the correct route, I'm happy to follow on behind and I'm really enjoying the push. It's been a long time since I've been exploring and I feel like a child again, just as amazed at all the colours coming back into nature.

Spring meant new beginnings and I loved that.

'So,' I say quietly after far too many hours of comfortable silence. I can't say why we have been so silent but it's probably due to the fact I can't stop thinking about earlier. 'Daddy issues?' I ask from behind making sure that when he turns to frown in question, my gaze is wandering aimlessly anywhere that isn't near him.

He sighs but he hardly sounds annoyed, more challenged. 'We're still on that subject are we?' He's pulled his lips to the side to hide his smile but I know it's there.

I shrug my shoulders. 'Sore subject, okay. Why don't we start with something easier' Everything about his expression shows he is pleasantly amused but I'm actually feeling not only incredibly shy but also a little guilty when I make my next conversation starter.

'Where are you from?' I ask sheepishly. Known him four years, only just start to realise he's not local. Great one.

'We _are_ chatty today!' He laughs, pausing at a tree to wait for me to catch up. His breath is a little ragged and his jacket is tied around his waist ready if needed with his famous grey t-shirt on display. Or rather, famous chest details on display. Weirdly, we're wearing similar things. Except I'm in brighter colours and have dressed like I live in Florida. But any warmth, I'm going to soak up like a vampire! Or not a vampire. Whatever- sun is good.

'We are…' I agree, almost forgetting my attempt to get to know him over the beauty of his figure. Honesty is good, I think. 'That and we've never really had this conversation…'

He's holding his palm out to me as my feet meet dodgy ground. I take the offer and graciously, as I were lightless, he helps pull me up over a dodgy root.

And sadly, he drops me down almost immediately after.

'You've been too busy.' He accuses, fighting to both look and me and not look at me.

'And you too _shy_.' I accuse back.

He scowls and shakes his head but he's smirking.

'So go on, where _are_ you from?' I push. He rolls his eyes and stops again to make sure I'm not far behind but in stopping I bump into him.

Dammit Cullen keep moving, your body is hard as hell. But also hot as hell. What am I complaining about?

'A city.' He answers quickly. I'm irritated.

'Look, I'm trying to buddy you here, help me will ya?' I complain, stopping to cross my arms over my chest. He seems a little surprised.

'We aren't...friends?'

'Of course. I mean. Eh? You was maybe,' in the attempt to fix myself I'm making it worse and he's looking a little surprised. 'I'm not fantastic at friends.'

I'm overpowered with this threatening vomit inducing anxiety when I think of how lame it sounds to my own ears. Cullen's surprise has turned into something else, maybe flattery. He looks a little pleased? Maybe?

'You're too harsh on yourself.'

'We've been sharing a home for three plus years and I've only just realised you're not American.' I say, laughing at myself.

He's thinking of a reply but instead shakes his head.

'I _think_ I'm British.' He says after a long pause, sounding particularly British when he says it. I don't know if he's trying to make me laugh because it feels effortless and like a child, I'm desperate for him to repeat the accent.

'Because you like to be the head of a household or because you're a ruthless invader?'

He rolls his eyes but we both laugh. Jasper would be proud of me for that joke. He's waiting for me again, his hand jutted out at an angle ready to offer. It's weirdly sweet. But then anything he does is going to be sweet with a face like that.

'Think?' I point out deliberately changing the course of my thoughts.

'We travelled a lot,' If his tone doesn't make it clear enough, I've already realised that this isn't ' _travelled_ ' in the cool sense of the word. 'He refuses to confirm where it was. He doesn't want me to favour one country over the other whatever that means.'

See what I mean? _Daddy issues_. Severe ones, too.

'Oh-kay?' It's hard not to feel like this is some joke.

' _God's child belongs to the earth and not the soil where they were planted_ '' He quotes, shaking his head to hide his bitter smile.

He's smiling for my benefit but his family and he aren't close. I've never seen him smile bitterly, I don't think, I'm not sure I like it. But it's okay because when I catch his face again I see he his smile has changed to a grin as he watches me daringly jump over another awkward path of rocky grass.

'Oh…well…that's kinda nice I guess. Why do you think you're British?' Child of the earth is bound to be one of those nicknames I tease him senselessly for. I need to not do that.

It's like a puzzle game, guess where Cullen comes from. He could be British I suppose…but his teeth are perfect and he's not a snob…though he is a _prude_.

Huh, British is a possibility.

'The sounds are familiar and sometimes I want to correct pronunciations if I hear it differently.'

It's immediately clear he's been doing this with my sentences since day one and without even meaning to I feel a little over warm again.

'English is also the language I speak the best. It would be insulting if I were Italian and couldn't speak it very well.'

I like hearing him talk, even if it does sound like a crazy mystery. He could read me the stock exchanges backwards and I'd love to hear it.

'Hold on….you know more than one language?' I'm not surprised, I'm impressed. Typical Cullen being impressive.

He laughs out loud now, shaking his head in disbelief: 'You really don't listen at all.'

I smirk back but try to defend myself a little. 'I'm listening now.' I promise and just like that, it's the key to salvation. He opens up like a key to a lock.

'A fair few. I know the basics of many but am only fluent in English. Latin coming in close second, Italian next probably.' He bites his lip as he racks his head for something else. He's such a nerd. But like the pathetic learner I am, I jump.

'Prove it.'

'Scusi?'

'I said _prove it_!'

He bursts into another giggle, his grin is taking up his face but he's paused for me once again, though not through necessity. Like he wants to stop, like he wants to read my expression.

'Cose vuoi che dica, bella-signora?' The sounds roll off his tongue like he's practiced them all night long. I love it, it gives me chills.

'Say it again!' I demand enthusiastically.

He sighs before turning away, his grin wide. 'You don't know what I said, do you?'

'No idea.' I promise confidently. 'Teach me!'

'Teach you?' I swear sometimes he thinks I'm just this cynical bitch. I'm really not, I love languages!

'Yes! Give me a phrase!'

'What like?'

'Anything!'

We've stopped. He's leaning against a tree, thinking, thoughts cast ahead.

'Okay; _una_ _degna causa_.'

I stumble a little over the pronunciation, sounding a bit like an idiot but he seems to be thrilled and even when it turns silent and we're walking on ahead, I make sure to commit the phrase to memory. In fact, we get quite a way ahead before I realised we've fallen into that comfortable silence again. After four years of silence, I'm thinking a bit of conversation is better.

'So a city?' I perk up, still repeating the phrase in the background. He doesn't seem surprised I've worked my way to this subject again.

'A city.' He confirms. 'Loud, busy and lots of people. I think we must have travelled through Europe because I can remember France well and Belgium better.'

'How old were you?'

For someone who was raving about how great he was for staying out of my way, I'm genuinely surprised to find myself hanging off his every word. But then I've always loved a good story.

'No idea.' He says shrugging, he's paused again, waiting for me to follow him up. 'I must have been walking, talking a little perhaps.'

'And then you moved?' I guessed.

'Straight south, stayed in Spain for less than a year before spending the majority of my days in Italy.'

'Why don't you just call yourself Italian then?' I ask, 'If you've spent so much time there?' If you make the language sound like an offering of sex from a single phrase?

Shit, I'm blushing again.

He shrugs. 'You've been in this state for years would you say it's where you're from?'

I think about shaking my head but Columbus, Ohio is a whole nightmare away and I'm happy where I am now. 'Yeah I probably would….'

Where I am now is my home. The people I was closest to made it home. Saint and the Kid included.

'We're vastly different, Miss Platt.'

'How long were you in Italy for?' The questions keep coming and the flow is natural, he's as ager to answer as I am to ask.

'Several years, maybe a decade before abandoning everything I knew and heading to the Land of the Free!' His words are suddenly flawless American, more American than my smart mouth.

'And you met Edward?'

He shakes his head. 'Oh no, I knew Edward from years before. His parents travelled a lot, too. I used to babysit sometimes before they told my father they were returning home…' He casts his eyes down to his trainers like it's a sad memory for him, but the smile is consistent.

'They were friends?'

His laugh is tight. 'Business associates. I also think Elizabeth felt sorry for me what with a lunatic father and no mother. I saw them every summer until I came to live with them….'

I'm suddenly aware I know fuck all about Edward too.

'That's going to need some depth.' I tease.

He's finding the route far too easy, he must have done it recently, I'm lagging behind him but he doesn't complain.

'At sixteen I begged my father to leave Italy. He refused so I run away.'

'From another _country_?!' Man, this makes my attempt look pathetic.

'He knew where I was and followed three months later…' There seems to be a lot of contempt there. I'm burning up with curiosity.

'So you've been here ever since?'

He shakes his head. 'Everywhere I've gone he's always been a few steps behind. Here is just one of the many places he's followed me too.'

'Why did you settle?' I ask, almost kind of... worried? Cullen was no child, it had to be weird his father still following him around. And yet...He's far more intriguing than I ever came him credit for.

'Because.' He said shrugging. 'I finally made friends. Or thought I had, thanks.'

I laugh though I really shouldn't, it's hurting my chest, and we've walked for ages. To the point, I've had to stop. My legs hurt and I need to catch my breath. How the hell does he do it?!

'Are you okay?' He asks frowning.

'Will be if you give me piggy back up the rest of the hill.' I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead and grinning a loopy grin.

He rolls his eyes but stops where he's standing and kneels to the floor. We must not have far to the top then.

'Dude, I was joking.' But he leaves the offer there.

'Go on, before I change my mind.' He sighs.

Okay, I genuinely didn't think he'd actually do it…

I grab the top of his shoulders, nearer his neck and leapfrog onto him. He holds my legs, wrapping thick hands around the knee before hoisting me up so I'm at a better position. Now I'm off the ground, my legs throb.

Far too much walking. But I can't say I'm not pleased with the result.

'Thank you.' I giggle, locking my arms that little tighter around his neck.

If he's struggling, he never lets on. Instead, he names as many things as he can in Italian as we pass them, flowers and trees or whatever but I'm hanging onto to my 'una degna causa', repeating it vigorously. In barely 20 steps, we stop at a beautiful, flat little opening. There's a few more trees but once you get past them, you're looking to the beauty that is the world.

I love the water and the moment I see the sea, my mouth moves for me and I gasp. He's suddenly remembered I'm still on his back and gently lowers me to the ground, his hands guiding the sides of my body to ensure I don't fall.

It's strangely hot.

He moves towards the sea first, resting against a tree as he looks proudly to the water, the light of the ocean sparkling up against him through the trees. There's a mismatch of dark and light. Light on his face, into the background, dark falling on his body, in the trees, everywhere.

I'm suddenly inspired and grab my camera before he moves.

'Cullen?'

'Hmm?'

The moment he turns, I click the button, capturing the moment forever. Hel acts as if he's been shot.

'Hey, you're meant to be photographing the sights, not me!' He insists.

'You're part of the sights.' I say shrugging. I look back to the photo and I already know how I want to change it, I wasn't to make the landscape even more open and him darker, daring almost like some kind of predator.

Now I'm really excited.

'Watch your step.' He warns as I cross the grass to stand beside him.

The cliff edge is scarily beautiful. Like it makes you want to jump into the water and swim for the rest of the evening. He sits down carefully, dangling his long legs over the edge though his body is sturdy. I take a careful step next to him and do the same.

It makes him a little nervous- I'm far more likely to fall than he is, but he keeps his mouth shut. My heartrate is singing when I look over the edge at my trainers, all ruined and in desperate need of a scrub, way above the water and the rocks.

He unzips his backpack and passes me a water bottle. 'Hungry?'

'Nah.' I tell him, the edge of the cliff is lucky enough to be graced by the sun and I'm greedily soaking up even more of its heat. I couldn't be more content.

'Thanks for this…' I murmur quietly, patting his leg. It's a very natural move which is a little scary considering I'm awful at comforting people.

'Don't be ridiculous.' He says gently, squeezing my hand for a second before letting it drop.

'So you were explaining about the Masons?' I continue.

He smiles. 'That was it really, I stayed with them while studying for Uni and once I got in, I moved across the country.'

'And Edward followed?'

He sort of shakes his head.

'I think his father always wanted more for him but Edward's his mother's son.' I picture it in that moment, what I imagine to be his mother playing the piano and such. 'He wanted music, art and love, his father wanted logic, science and maths. When I was there I think I balanced the system.' He sighs, neither out of sadness nor jealousy but a weird state in-between.

'No other siblings?'

He shakes his head silently. 'They wanted to but... _couldn't_...'

'Oh.' It's the only thing I can think to say

'Probably part of the reason why they love children so much.' He shrugs and casts his blue eyes to me. 'Serves as a reason for the over-protection, too, I guess. Not that Edward has ever been a fan of it.'

He tries to lighten the mood with a fond smile but both of us are cast on the sad image of the three of them.

'I can't imagine Edward having daddy-issues.' I joke, elbowing him lightly and smiling like a truck driver. He shakes his head with a smile.

'That's because he doesn't. He and his father are very close, they're just... _different_. Sometimes they see eye to eye, more often they don't but they still love each other…very much.'

I can't detect the tone in his voice. Maybe it is jealousy?

'And that's not the same for you?' I guess.

He gives a small nod of his head before throwing himself backwards and lying on his back in the grass looking up to the trees. It's getting to early evening according to the chill in the air but I'm at perfect ease. I lay back too but I turn on my side to watch him. I've pulled my knee up so it could easily be grazing his rib. His arm is around me almost, gently stroking the threads of grass near my shoulders as if he wants to break them off. He doesn't. I'm trying not to flirt, really I am, I don't even know I'm doing it, I just want to be close to him, hear his words, breathe his breath….touch that gorgeous body….

'What about you?' He asks.

'You know about me.' I answer and it's true, he does.

'Maybe, but it'll be nice to hear something other than my own voice.' He chuckles though the sound is mute.

'I'm 98% sure I killed my father.' I say, smiling despite the subject matter He looks up to me and frowns, looking a little alarmed.

'He was in the garden painting when my mother and I were arguing about something. I threatened to sleep with the gardener and next thing we know he'd had a heart attack.'

His frown turns to disbelief and his alarm softens to ill-timed amusement. 'That doesn't mean you killed him, Es. Heart attacks are common.'

'I know that, maybe try telling my mother.' I mutter.

He pulls himself onto his elbows. 'She blames you?'

'I guess she kinda has a right to… _I did_ sleep with the Gardener.' I pretend to laugh but it's not that funny. It makes my stomach hurt, like it can't deal with the weight of my heart leaning on it. He's trying to think of the right thing to say. I'm shit at conversations.

'How old were you?' He prompts.

This is exactly the kind of answer I know he'll hate.

'Fifteen. A bit of a tearaway, too.' I confess

He winces. 'Fifteen?! That's a little young isn't it?'

It's easier to relax not thinking about my family, there's just tension and confusion lying there….

'I was thirteen when I lost it…it was two days before my fourteenth birthday.'

He's making a horrified face, clearly uncomfortable, he wants to ask but doesn't want to offend. I know his expressions well enough to predict them. So I nod as permission for him to go ahead. 'It couldn't have been…easy…?'

It's typical for his words to fail him. I smirk.

'It wasn't too bad. It got better as I got older. At fifteen I was loving life. So was our gardener.' I tell him with a wink but part of me cringes in mortification. Why are we even discussing this shit?

'How old was he?' He asks gently. I wonder how badly he's going to judge me but I guess if I make him hate me a little it'll be easier to not be attracted to the guy.

'The guy I lost it to or the Gardener?' Same person, what does it matter?

He pauses. 'Both…'

'Are you sure you want to know?' I warn him. He takes me seriously, thinks for a moment and finally nods.

'Roughly about seven...seven and half years maybe.' Seven years and four months to the dot.

His mouth falls open. He immediately starts to choke on whatever he had in his throat. 'Twenty?!' He repeats as if I've sworn against ever fact of science.

I nod and bury my face in my awkward fringe.

'When you were _thirteen_?!'

'Yes!' I say laughing out of sheer awkwardness.

He's frowning. 'What _happened_?'

I know what he means…he's wondering why on earth a thirteen year old would have sex with a twenty year old. Or fourteen, whatever you're thinking.

I gently push his shoulder. 'Why do guys always think that?' I scold him, forcing a laugh from my chest.

He's looking even more confused.

'You think that something must have gone wrong for us to enjoy sex, why can't we like it just as much as guys do?' I ask.

'At thirteen?!'

I shrug. 'I consented, all was fine.'

As if perfectly timed, he turns his face to avoid sharing his alarmed expression but gathers composure fairly quickly. He's aching to make the statement, that obvious, horrible statement, but we both know he won't.

So to answer, yes it was illegal but times have past, let's move on. Immediately.

He blushes and looks away from me. I don't think he's going to answer me until he does.

'Well, I guess it's more of a guarantee that the guy will…' he tumbles over the word, trying to decide what one to use and burning a deep pink, I'm deeply amused.

'Come?' I offer, looking hard into his wrought expression. The Adams-apple at his throat bobs and he smiles awkwardly.

'For females it's different?' He finishes softly but he's clearing asking for my confirmation.

'It doesn't have to be.'

'Huh?'

'Women don't have to come in the act of sex for it to be an enjoyable night.' I tell him.

He's listening intently despite his blushing cheeks betraying him. It's a cute conflict. Like he's in the very middle of man and boy hood. The very moment before the crossover.

'Of course, it's nice when you do,' I add deliberately, though I'm not exactly the most experienced in that matter. In fact, most unexperienced which is largely unfair if you think about how many people I've slept with? Surly statistics would be on my side but nope. Not once. 'I's not the end of the world when you don't. It doesn't necessarily ruin the fun.'

Normally ruins your impression of the person though.

'Is it common not to?'

He's got his eyes cast away from me again, his voice low as if he's trying to pass off that he doesn't care. When he clearly does.

I know for a fact I shouldn't be teaching the guy anything but his sudden interest has sparked an interest of my own and I'm desperate to impart my wisdom. I love how open minded he is.

'Me personally or women in general?'

He doesn't answer, just smirks so I go ahead.

'Women in general, it's probably about 50/50. Some do, some don't, the older you get, the more your body wants to 'help you out'…me personally…not a lot…at all.' Never. Even with his face turned away from me I can't help but notice his eyebrow raised in surprise. I'm really laughing now, I should be embarrassed but I'm not, I couldn't be more comfortable.

'Why do it, then?' which essentially translates as; 'why are you such a slag'

I sigh. Did he not listen to a word I said?!

'An experiment I guess. Whose to say it's my body, what about if it's the length, or the girth of the lack of know how. I'm debating whether it's my fault or the male anatomy.' I shrug but he's laughing with me.

'And your results?' He asks.

'There _does_ seem to be some correlation between the size of someone according to how much fun we have that night. But that's just me personally, I'm not speaking on behalf of all girls.'

His laugh is tough, he looks a little white in the face.

'But _apparently_ you can get just as much pleasure from a micro-penis so I wouldn't feel self-conscious.' It's more of a tease, I know he hasn't got a micro-penis, I could see that from the size of his package the other day, even if I couldn't see the thing itself…it looked hefty.

He blushes again, a furious red highlighting his cheeks. Burning up even more so when I wink at him. His jaw falls open in horror.

'I _haven_ 't got a micro...'

I'm rolling about I'm laughing so much, doubled over in stomach toning laughter. I never predicted him to be so self-conscious.

'Oh ha- _ha_. Very funny. It's not like I have to ask you the same thing, is it!' He says, pretending to be grumpy though I can see him smiling.

Now my mouth falls in shock.

He's just confirmed that he was in fact looking at my vagina…and he's done so in a light-hearted manner… _What on Earth?!_

Because he technically won that bit of banter, I pinch him lightly in his lower ribs, expecting him to jump up but he doesn't squirm like I want him too.

'You've got to decide what you want, either you're going to be shy and innocent or you're going to be confident and playful. You can't have it two ways!'

'I can't help it!' He retorts playfully. 'I don't think I am shy but according to you...'

'You're _blushing_ Dr Cullen...' I say, gently dragging a fingertip against his soft, shaven skin stroking the colour there. He catches my hand and holds it above his cheeks to stop me. The fidget of his face suggests it tickled.

'Just because I'm blushing, Miss Platt, doesn't mean I'm innocent.'

If you heard that loud thud, it was the sound of my heart dropping from pure excitement. God this guy is a turn on!

His smile is daring but his eyes sweet. I can't bear to look at him anymore, I'm melting in his face so I pull myself away from his gaze and go back to the edge of the cliff.

He's watching me, perched again on his elbows as he watches me fumble about on pointed feet. 'Be careful…'

'I'm always careful,' I say, leaning my legs further over the edge. He's getting panicky again and moves closer to me.

'I'm sure the Levonorgestrel debates that theory…' He's kind of talking under his breath but I caught it.

'That _wasn_ 't me that was the piercing. And I'm clearly paying the price, aren't I!' I poke my tongue out at him and snigger but he's more focused on where I'm wondering.

I lean a little more over the edge, kicking at the cliff face with my trainers.

'Careful, Esme…'

'Who decides to get a piercing there anyway?! Could you _be_ more vain?!'

He's not joking anymore, his face is serious and he watches my step, pulling himself properly.

'Please…' He says slowly, eyes on my shoes.

'He wasn't even a polite, didn't even see if I was okay after-'

When I said I'm always careful, I was clearly lying. I've never met someone more careless than me. And so when I come to think of it later, I'm really not surprised that one second, I was staring at his face and the next I had lost my footing.

A tiny kind of part yelp part scream left my mouth as I felt myself almost falling.


	13. Reasons why dinner is a turn-on

_**I am so sorry for the late up-date. Super busy schedule but to make up for lost time, it's a long chapter. So grateful for your support, I hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

There's a seriously heavy pain continuously sounding its beat in the recesses of my skull. Horrible like a crappy pop song that won't shut the heck up.

It might be my imagination of course. Maybe my head isn't hurting. Maybe I'm overthinking the situation.

'Sit down, Cullen. Pacing isn't going to do anything.'

Maybe it's a migraine, I am prone to the bastards. Definitely a migraine, the noise in here is killing me. What's all that bleeping? And the sounds of wheels along tiled floor? Eurgh. And the light? Even in darkness, the light hurts.

'Son, seriously…' A warning voice. Maybe familiar, I don't remember.

'Sorry, Sir.' The owner of that tone is obvious, you can hear it in the worry.

With great amounts of effort, and I mean great amounts of effort, I wearily open my left eye. My sight is blurry and even with my full sight of the blue curtain in front of me I'm trying to shift the blur of colour into perspective.

'Thank FUCK.'

'Cullen!'

'- _God_! Sorry, sorry!'

I grunt to whoever is obstructing my personal space and push my arm out. A clammy hand takes hold of mine, perfect, detailed hands with a tense grip.

'Are you okay?' Cullen asks breathlessly. My brain takes a while to get into it but finally his outline becomes clearer. He looks pale and feels cold, probably not as cold as me, but still unusual for him. His hair is disarrayed and bundled in the curled fist furthest from me is a jacket.

I grunt again in reply, patiently letting myself accustom to the new surroundings. It's easier to focus on him now, even with the light giving me a headache. He's biting the corner of his mouth with sharp teeth, his eyes are shifty and for the third day in the row, he looks tired.

'Are you okay?' He repeats nervously, 'How are you feeling?!'

'Hi yourself.' I mumble, clearing my throat just a little.

The old man from a few days ago is hanging around near my trainer clothed feet, hand scribbling away against his clipboard and he analyses my response. Though I'm thinking he's more interested in Cullen's unusual behaviour. If my flatmate gets any closer to the railings he'll be sitting on me.

'We were on the cliff?' I say thickly, checking the area beside me. That stupid bleeping is getting on my nerves.

Hold on-.

I'm in hospital?- FUCK.

My flatmate nods, and runs his eyes over every inch of my expression trying to asses my pain without asking me just yet, give over with the puppy dog eyes and give me the drugs, Cullen.

'Can you remember what we talking about?' He looks behind him to his boss just to test that he's not being too 'informal' and then turns back to me, still holding onto my hand.

'Urm? Paintings?' What the fuck sot of question is that? His face falls, a frown slightly taking over on his face- oh, no it wasn't paintings was it? 'Or Edward? Was it Edward?'

'Do you remember what about Edward?' He prompts enthusiastically.

Why is this so important?

'Shit, I fell didn't I?'

The sigh that leaves his chest seems to shorten his height about 40 feet and he almost smiles.

'Yeah, hon. You fell.' And he drags a thumb across my hand in what I think is a comfort to the both of us.

If he's going to continue with the affectionate concern, maybe I should fall more often?

'That's embarrassing.'

'Pulse?' Asks Doctor Maddison, smiling though he still seems to be keeping an observation on his student. A proud, suspicious one- wait, oh he swore didn't he? Is he in trouble?

The clammy hand loosens its grip till it eventually falls from its hold as he turns and gives some doctor measurements. _Oh_. I feel even colder now, cold and at a loss. He wasn't actually holding my hand. He was checking my pulse. Right, okay. That's just… _grand_.

They talk a little, map out a mind plan while I watch without hearing, just irritably staring. Doctor Maddison breathes in, heaving his chest and steps towards me. He leans on the railing, double checks my pulse then my blood pressure and finally gets me to read a few things from his chart to check my eyesight.

'Do you think you can walk?' He asks as though I'm a child.

'Obviously?' Wait, that's rude. 'Err, yeah sure?'

I look over the free side of the bed, shuffle down the edge and let my legs dangle there for a moment. I'm being watched over, expected to fall which is annoying in itself, it's just my head that hurts, my feet are fine and so is my balance-.

'Shit.' I curse, as I misjudge the floor and pretty much fall right into Cullen's patient arms.

'Are y-'

'I'm _fine_!' I quickly interrupt, swatting his arms away to steady myself. He almost blushes, head turned down to the floor.

He was only trying to help, Goddammit, Esme what's your problem? So I quickly grab his arm and pull it up into the same position in case I fall again.

'Just keep an eye out, maybe?' I correct, making myself return the smile just as I prove that there's nothing wrong with my balance, nor my walking. It's just my head.

The old guy is humming and grunting as I walk, not in a weird way, in a Doctor's way. He has no reason not to discharge me and as he can see, I'm eager as hell to leave.

'Well,' he says resignedly, looking towards my angelic flatmate and pretty much rolling his eyes. I try to hold my stature to help his decision though I'm very aware of Cullen's cautious hand placed readily by the small of my back, not touching, but waiting just in case. Cute.

You can almost imagine the old guy with a pipe cocked at the corner of his mouth as he grumbles at his most favourite student, smiling eagerly.

'I'm sure you're both aware discharge isn't strictly recommended after a head injury.'

Head injury? I thought I fell? Explains the headache I guess.

'But…'

Just discharge me already, old guy!

'I suppose you'll be okay. I'm holding you responsible, Cullen.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'No more high climbing, huh?'

We both smirk back at the old guy and nod our heads like cheeky grandchildren.

'Go on, take these with you.' He hands a clipboard for us to give to the receptionist, tips his head to me and seemingly winks at the silent man next to me. Who has the audacity to avoid my question?

We're both awkwardly quiet as we leave the building, handing in the papers and the desk and walking so slowly that I'm thinking about complaining. It's not until we hit the open air that I'm suddenly over-come with…a sense of regret.

What a waste of a day, there was so much I wanted to-

'Dinner?'

'Huh?'

He fixes the strap on his bag, flicks his watch towards the both of us and squints out into the mid-evening. It's colder now, the sun has gone, and there's an almost miserable tone in the atmosphere.

'I presumed you might be hungry? You haven't eaten in a while and you've spent a few hours complaining of an unsettled stomach…'

'I did?'

He sighs, a little worried again before internally fighting with himself over something. 'Perhaps it's better if we go home?'

My head is hurting, so are my feet and strangely enough, my stomach doesn't feel right. But those are none of the factors which make my decision.

'I'm starving.' I say, nudging his arm. 'Let's go grab something.'

'Rr-eally?' He pauses, hanging behind a little as I start my walk towards town. He gets the picture, hurriedly matches my step and unfolds his jacket to put on my shoulders.

'Sure, I don't want to waste my sick day. What we getting? Indian, Chinese, Italian?'

His pink mouth is pulled up to a smirk as he fiddles with his backpack strap.

'What about _real_ dinner?'

'I'm offended you dare question the standards of the fast food industry.' I tease him again, slowing down to make our walk last longer.

I've pretty much decided I'm going to avoid looking in any reflective surface right now. I so don't want to know. And with that in mind, I pull both my arms through his jacket and pout at him as if I'm some kinda male model. He laughs gently, twitches his nose and takes his time with his words.

Which is annoying as hell, hurry up and spit it out, Chinese, Indian or Italian.

'May I take you to a real restaurant?'

Is it me or is he acting strange?

'A real restaurant? Like sitting down?'

He nods slowly, weirdly nervous. I've chosen a bad time to disagree because we're still walking towards the line of food sellers and with the smell of cooking, my stomach is groaning. Almost as loud as my head, in fact.

'Why?'

'To ensure you eat something? You've had quite a bit of day.' His answer is so fast I'm pretty sure it's well-rehearsed. Just the velvet of his voice is tempting me, not just the utter exhaustion that I'm exhibiting with my crap attempt at walking.

'Where abouts?' I ask wearily, I don't want to seem over keen. I can't exactly remember if my purse is in that bag.

'Lascada?'

'LASCADA?!' I repeat, incredulous. 'No bloody way, Cullen! Look at me!'

I look down at myself and wish I didn't. My legs are gross, full of Goosebumps and grass stains, my thighs are fat as hell, my arms are knobbly and…oh God. My hair.

'I think you're perfect.'

My hand pauses at my hair before slowly falling to shyly cover my face. How pathetic am I? What kinda drugs did they pump into me? It was just a metaphor, get over yourself gurl!

'Dude, I am not going into one of the poshest place in town looking like the pathetic wilderness tramp that I've chosen to resemble today.' I gesture back to my crappy outfit.

He should know better than to refer to his. He's dressed in sportswear and still looks like the single hottest guy on the planet. They won't even think twice about letting him in, he'll just have to smile his way in and they'd plate him up the Chef's special.

What am I talking about, he is the Chef's special.

'They do the best food, there's no better place.'

'Mate, there is a better place when I can barely afford new windscreen wipers-' Speaking off, when the hell am I getting my car back from the psycho blonde? Can I even be sure it'll still be a car? Will it just be a golf cart spray painted?

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

'I was obviously going to pay?'

'No way, that's not fair!'

I stop almost in the middle of the road, just about ready to retrace my steps and head back home but my follower isn't following.

'Ah- _em_?'

'I really want to eat dinner at Lascada's.'

'Well go eat then.' I say dismissively, pointing towards it. Man, they'll take one look at me and lock the doors.

This is where he does something super odd. Like, scary odd.

'Are you really going to leave me to have dinner on my _own_?' He asks, sadly, almost pouting.

…

What?

'Urm?'

'You're going to leave me to sit in there on my _own_ looking the saddest, loneliest guy in the whole world-?'

'There's no better way to get a date?' I try pathetically, but he's already started his big soliloquy, speaking dramatically and absurdly for Cullen, directing to nowhere in particular as he goes on about his dear misfortunes.

'O woe is me-'

'What are you doing?!' I hiss at him, trying to pull back the hand he has so weirdly addressed to the clouds, his voice speaking in perfect rhythm like a Shakespeare creation.

'Verily forsooth, abandon'd and-'

'Fiiiine!' I sing embarrassed, pushing him slightly as I hide my smile with my over pink cheeks.

'Lascada's?'

'Only if you keep the early modern drama to a mute!' I mutter playfully.

'Si, Bella-Signoria.'

And like a lightning bolt, the words hit me; _una degna causa_. My secret sentence.

'Una degna causa' I repeat back to him. The surprise on his face is clear and he grins with utter relief. If I didn't know him any better, I would say he was concerned for my memory. What an over-reacter.

'Una degna causa,' he matches, correcting my mispronunciation once again.

* * *

The restaurant is pretty much only around the corner but if we go any slower we'll be at a standstill. We're both enjoying the patience of each other company, I hope. Though neither of us are saying much in terms of conversation.

'So, you're going to apologise then?' I ask after a while, eyeing his entertained expression.

'Apologise? What for?'

'As your gender dictates, it's stereotype for you to save the fallen maiden. You failed in you task, tsk, tsk.'

He's in-between a laugh and a frown which only has me in stitches. With a forced smirk and a shake of his head he sighs at me. But I'm not going to drop it.

'How could _you_? Left to fall upon my own death due to your flawed heroism.'

'Flawed?' He repeats, still unsure whether to be irritated or not, though the expression on his face suggest he's about to shut me up in a minute.

'You failed to act, hmm.'

'Maybe we should take you back from a MRI. You're clearly having memory problems.'

'Memory problems, huh? Is this what you're going to base your excuses on? Poor effort Cullen. How on Earth are you expecting to get the princess if you can't even save the everyday girl.'

'The princess here being…?' He asks with a frown, still oddly patient considering how badly I'm playing on his sense of honour.

'Tilly of course.'

The mention of her name make him wince. How many times do I have to remind the guy?

'Hilarious, Miss Platt. I presume you've made your point?' To which I nod and he grins. 'Brilliant, now if I might correct. Yes you fell, but you're recording of the events afterwards are largely inaccurate and strictly _untrue_.'

'You're just feeling guilty now.'

'If I might re-inform?'

'You can try.' I say playfully.

'After parading around on a rock on which I insisted you to be aware of your safety- you fell.'

Parading, pfft….maybe a little bit.

'Continue, Cullen.'

'Now, being the honourable good gentleman I am, I quickly acted to restore your safety and well-being, rescuing you from the high cliffs and the many deathly rocks below it.'

And suddenly, my smirk is fading. That's a point, if I fell, wouldn't I be kinda dead?

'Now, I can only assume it was panicked judgment and fear but once I rescued you, you pretty much threw yourself at me and thus…collided your head with a rock.' He looks proud of himself when he talks and then he sees my expression and wipes that smart ass smile off his face.

He looks frightened. I'm wondering how bad my face must look then.

'Threw myself?' I repeat bitterly.

'Well. No, sorry. You fell, I grabbed you, pulled you back and…urm… I slipped and you hit your head on a rock.'

Too much information at once, the joke has clearly ended now and all I can do is gawk at him. So was it his fault I ended up in hospital or am I extremely lucky in the sense that he kinda saved my life?

Apparently the later.

'You grabbed me?'

'Urm, sorry.'

' _Sorry_?' I repeat

He's spotted his mistake and turns even pinker but the vulnerable sound of my voice is showing that something is a little odd.

'Er? No? Not sorry. I mean. Yeah I grabbed you.'

'So…' I take a deep breath, frowning for no good reason. 'You technically saved my life then?'

'Hypothetically.'

'Hypothetically?'

'Or technically.'

'Well which was it, was it hypothetically or technically?'

He waits for his mind to come up with the right words and then stops walking, looking a little more embarrassed than usual.

'Well, then yes, I guess I saved your life.'

…

Whoa.

'Why?' What? What the fuck am I saying right now?

' _Why_?!' He repeats astonished and laughs loudly. 'Was I meant to let you fall? What sort of nutter are you?'

'But you might've fallen too?'

'I doubt it.' He fights slightly, scratching at his neck.

'Are you saying there was no risk of you falling also?'

'Well…no but-'

'So you confirm that you were endangering yourself?'

'Well, I guess, _technically_ …I don't understand. Are you telling me off?' He's still smiling but he looks just as nervous as always.

So…I might have died? I could be…dead right now?

'I mean, you still ended up in hospital, so….' He shrugs awkwardly.

But before another dumb word leaves his mouth, I've wrapped my arms round him, tightly. He does his normal. For about three seconds, he panics, he stiffens up and then slowly relaxes until he's hugging me back.

'Are you okay?' he asks softly, awkwardly patting my back like I'm a three year old who's just coughed up a sweet. Jeeez, thanks Cullen. But while his cologne isn't wreaking havoc with my brain I pull away and smile at him.

'Just…Thank you.'

'You're crazy, Esme. Absolutely stir crazy.'

* * *

It's only down to the fact that it's dark outside and Cullen looks like a Greek God in a perfect mosaic made from talented perfect artists that such a place dare let me in. It's pretty much a case of Cullen smiling at a waitress, her falling at his feet and him dragging me with him as I try and perfect my 100% shitty hair.

It's not crazy busy but it's surely got a good amount of people indoors.. We pick a table near the window, not that you can see anything as it's so dark outside but it's a nice table and he's eager to do one of those drop dead attractive boyfriend acts that makes it difficult to think straight.

He's going to pull my chair out for me, literally has his hand on the back but I quickly shake my head. It'd be weird if he did that, surely? But he shrugs his shoulders and takes the seat opposite me with half a frown on his face.

Typically and I mean fucking typically some waitress comes over and starts drooling all over him pretty much immediately. Tilly 2.0. It's both ridiculously annoying and brilliant. She's falling all over him and she hasn't even got to see anything exciting yet which makes me look pretty much like a nun in comparison.

But I'm in a good mood and because I'm in a good mood I decide a little game is on the cards.

'What can I get you to drink?' She asks only looking at him (which is offensive), he goes for the usual but smiles at me, waiting for me to pick my usual. But my head hurts so no bloody way.

'Two iced waters please.'

'You sure? You can have whatever you want?' He offers, openly smiling. The waitress behind him is looking positively bored, irritated by my very existence. Bitch, bring it.

So instead of just responding with a point to the head, I lean towards him, imitating Tilly almost as I flutter my eyelashes at him like a teenager.

'Really?' I ask, pretending as if he's just offered me the world's jewels. He almost frowns but almost decides to play along. Which means, he's being super passive.

'Of course, whatever you'd like?'

So I lean even closer, bite my lip and start to stroke his hand, slowly, playfully.

Our waitress is suddenly realising that she shouldn't be making cheeky eye-fucks to him but my flatmate is looking both confused and entertained. He's smirking at me, trying to read what I'm thinking.

'I _do_ hope you're not trying to get me drunk, _my love_.' I whisper sensually, giving him my best sexy face. It sounds like a joke but sexy face is a real thing and it normally works in my favour so I'm going to add it to my routine at the moment.

He raises an eyebrow but doesn't shift.

'Of course not.' He replies, calculating. The waitress is still standing too close to him, invading his personal space, positively smothering him with her dirty scent.

Oh hoe, game on.

'We do have to conserve our energy to put to… _other_ uses…' I tease, running my tongue across my bottom lip.

He's still very confused, his cheeks are tainted pink, a very light pink and his hand feels hot underneath mine. He's positively wishing for the water, which makes him all the more gorgeous.

I look to the waitress as if I've only just seen she's there.

'In fact I think I will just take the water after all.' _SILLY ME?_

'Of course.' She says tightly and you can almost hear the growl in her voice.

I go a little overboard in my game and under the table I stroke my foot along his leg, slowly at first but softly gliding it along his shin, mimicking the same back and forth movement of my fingertip to his hand, with my foot to his shin, all the while glaring at this brunette bimbo bitch.

He blushes harder and moves awkwardly while staying very quiet, but while his shin is reach, I'm going to keep up my act. He's starting to look uncomfortable but a kind of bewildered uncomfortable like he can't really make sense of what's going on.

'Are you ready to order yet?'

He's apparently lost for words because he shakes his head, quickly and pulls himself in closer to the table.

The moment she's brought the drinks over and we've ordered the food I drop everything, snapping my hand back to the glass on the table and shifting my legs together.

He rubs the back of his pink neck nervously and takes a few breaths, waiting until we're alone to let out a strangely tense breath. He's so sweet when he's flustered.

'What was that all about?!' He whispers at me, he looks panicky and a little tense, it's making me laugh.

'What?' I say innocently, shrugging and using my drink to hide my smile.

'You know what. That, that whole…you know?'

I laugh a little more and clink my glass to his water in a cheers motion. There's not a lot left, he drained it in an instant.

'Just a bit of fun.' I say, pretending I don't really care. His breaths are quite heavy but I don't think anything of it. 'She was all over you, it was annoying.' I confess.

He smiles now, the sweat on his brow hidden. 'Jealous are we?'

'No, I just hate not being the centre of attention.' I also hate being the centre of attention so there we are, catch 22. I could never be an actress.

He laughs now, like a kind of engine rumble, leaning on his elbow to look at me, head tilted fondly.

'You're the centre of my attention, if that helps?'

'For now,' I say back to him, feeling like I don't want to look at his charming face anymore, Or feeling that I should at least be given an excuse to do so. 'Wait till the waitress comes back.'

If she dare…

This is beginning to sound like some kind of date…which would totally be wrong and inappropriate and weird. But also super cute and 300% hot. He doesn't say anything back to me, just smiles, I don't know if that's because dinner has arrived but still…it's weird.

'Think of it this way, you're the first girl friend I've had, so you're always going to come first...'

He stabs a piece of food with a fork and almost seductively places it into his mouth. I'm staring, fuck. How do I stop?!

Oh why did he have to make girl friend into two- hold on? _Come_ first?!

Was that a flirt? Was that a double meaning?! Did he just make a sexual reference?! AM I LOOKING TOO MUCH INTO THIS?!

'That can be misconstrued, you know.' I tease, just basking in the very idea, in both ideas. Mmmm.

'Oh?' He's playing the fool but he knew what he was doing, he's got to right? He said earlier he wasn't innocent didn't he? Did he?

'I didn't mean to insinuate anything. I'm sorry.'

Insinuate everything. All over me. Right now.

'I guess by Friday you'll have a new girl to fuck with...' That sounds bitchy. Was it too bitchy? Do I sound psycho? Is he noticing?! Man, forget about the new girl, fuck with me. Do It literally, I don't mind. I'm open!

'Why do you do that?' he asks, chewing on his dinner to hold the smile.

'Do what?'

He swallows his mouthful.

'You call it all different names, one minute it's fucking then shagging then sex but you never call it…love making.' He says slowly, hanging on those last two words.

Two things happen. The moment he says fucking, my insides curl up and I melt all over again. The moment he says love making, the excitement from a second ago leaves in an instant and I have to control my face not just puke on my plate just from sheer cringe-ness.

Love making? Yuck, where are we from, the 1600s?! Why don't we just call it porking?! What a way to kill my mood!

'Because they are different things. Very different things.'

It's both a pro and a con that he's so goddamn naïve, in this case a con. Call it _fucking_ one more time, I beg of you.

'I don't understand….' He confesses waiting for me to explain. Eurgh where the fuck is Emmett when you need him.

He's just so sweet and so ridiculous and so naïve and so goddamn hot. He looks like an oxymoron; He's the very definition of sex, yet he needs me to explain the theory.

'Err. Okay. What do you want me to start with?' I ask, unable to hide the shake in my voice.

Is it me or has food become the least of my worries since he brought this topic up?

'Whatever you'd like.'

Foreplay sounds good. Let's leave this restaurant right now and I'll show you exactly what I'd like.

Okay, be cool, be brave, be careless. You're Esme Platt. Who gives a fuck if the saint opposite you is making you hotter than a volcano in a heat-wave.

'Alright, let's start with fucking. You're familiar with 50 shades, you should know the deal here…'

He's smiling but his appetite hasn't faltered, I'm taking my time over this.

'Fucking is basically very dissociative, you can fuck a stranger and it might still be fantastic, it's all focused to the orgasm no matter how you get there. There's a kind of urgency. You understand?'

It's one hell of a fucking turn on.

He takes a sip of his water. 'Go on.'

'Well,' I continue, 'Shagging is a little bit upmarket. You'd shag someone you'd spent a few hours with and it's more focused on the bodies moving together to achieve the orgasm.'

What a fucking dumb dinner conversation. Now I'm getting all flustered again.

'Sex and love then?' He persists.

'Okay so what you need to remember is that ' _love making''_ EW vomiting everywhere 'and fucking are like two totally separate things on the same thing. Like the colour chart acid thing.'

'The PH scale?' He offers.

'Exactly!'

I take a huge forkful deliberately making him wait for my answer.

'So sex is kind of a repetition thing, something you'd do with a friend or a partner multiple times, you're kind of acting on your sole needs and desires rather than focusing on what the other needs but doing so in a very caring manner. Loving… Is different. I think.'

He picks up on this last comment with an eyebrow raise but waits patiently.

'I guess it's more sensual, more sensitive. There's more of a need to be holding and touching each other. The kind of thing where you'd be making out for hours and it would still be counted almost. It's more patient and romantic as coming was an unexpected perk.'

He chews thoughtfully.

'It's also a lot to do with the positions I think.' I add, eating a little more.

'In what way?'

Are you kidding me?! IN ALL WAYS.

'You really should take a look at the DVDs, they'll explain more than I ever could.' I say mockingly, drowning the last of my drink because I'm become incessantly thirsty. Twice over.

Another eye roll and it's looking Goddamn hot.

'For example, I wouldn't consider anything like the 69 or the fucking leap frog stuff ' _love making'_. The two people aren't really connecting so that would probably go under sex. But I guess it's how you act in the situation.'

I add a shrug at the end for his benefit, so he knows that as much of an experimentalist I am, I'm not an expert.

'I probably wouldn't call anal 'love making either'.' I say with a laugh. He shudders, clearly not expecting the words from me.

'You think?'

'What?' Is he really debating the phrase love making over ANAL?! Jeeeez Cullen, raise your standards!

'You said ' _I think_ '. You don't know for sure?' He asks, hiding his mouth in another sip of water.

THANK FUCK.

'Well. Alice and Jasper are the sort of _love making_ people. I think it's down to who you're with, the relationship you have there and how long you've been together.' I explain. Also probably how much you baby-name each other and nickname their genitals shit names like 'boo' or 'squishy'.

Who the fuck are my best friends?

Man, after 24 long years of having nothing, I would thought the guy would have been far more interested in the sex…apparently he's read too many romance novels because all he seems to be stuck on is the _love_ making.

I continue with my half empty plate, surprised at the hunger that is still there. Even if it's not the same hunger.

'So, you wouldn't say that you've… _loved_?'

Why does it have to be called love? Love is so misleading and… gross.

'No, I wouldn't.' I tell him honestly.

'Oh.'

What the fuck does that mean?!

' _Oh_?'

'Hmm?' He says, looking at me blankly.

'You said ' _oh.'_ ' I accuse.

He nods, almost smiling. 'Yeah I suppose I did.'

Do I have to spell it out?

'Why?'

'Hmm? Oh no, I just. It kind of just came out, I don't really know why.'

Either he's a shit liar or I'm paranoid. If paranoid was synonymous for totally 100% infatuated with your hot-fuck of a flatmate. I couldn't be more all over him if I tried.


	14. Reasons why familiarity breeds stupidity

_**By way of apology for my crappy up-keeping of time, I thought I'd upload another chapter. I love feedback and it would be awesome to hear it!**_

 _ **Thanks so much! Hope you enjoy. :)  
**_

* * *

'So?' He says slowly. He pushes the empty plate closer to the middle of the table and watches me greedily consume the rest of mine, expression wreathed with something that might be misread as pride. Little does he know I'm only scoffing my face to avoid putting the images of him and sex together.

'So?' I repeat shyly, hiding my mouth. I'm conciously aware that his gaze hasn't shifted from my face in the last hour or so and it's making me a little nervous.

'We were talking about your parents?' He says encouragingly, leaning against his chair and propping up his elbow on the back to try look casual. He's bearing similarities to the highway billboards.

I almost frown at him before realising he's desperate for some conversation and I'm too eager to reply.

'Before the whole-?' I point to my head and make an expression of death. He nods his head slowly again before running rolling his eyes.

I should be super grateful he's got his eyes on me, I haven't stop shooting daggers at the waitress since we got here.

'I said that my dad died because he heard I was shagging his employee, right?'

Again another eye-roll but it's just as sweet as it was before.

'That's not what I meant. Were you close?'

The warm glow of this overheated restaurant is making his glow even more golden, his eyes more blue and those perfect muscles even more-…enticing.

'Sure. I was his first.' And technically last but let's ignore that petty bit of family drama.

'Though you have three older brothers?'

'From my mother's previous marriage' I confirm, swallowing my mouthful. I should be impressed he's remembered them, it was very rare I talked about my family.

'Are you close with them too?' His face has changed from calculating to genuine interest which is almost weird. Without his realisation, he's bent forward towards me, both elbows now on the table with hand poised beneath the shadow of his chin.

'Sure. How could I not be? They're a hilarious bunch, especially after a drink.' I laugh at the cheery Christmas memories, the times they'd secretly source themselves on old-aged gin before getting a bollocking from my mother. Times were different now, of course. I hadn't seen them in… well. Too long.

His mouth opens but while my fork and my mouth is free I quickly jump in.

'Before you ask, I don't mind the twins either. Even if they're spoilt.' Again, this isn't so much of a lie as… well, it was pretty close to a lie. I loved my younger brother and sister, of course I loved them but being the babies of the family and positively mothers favourite-. They knew how to use their power.

'Why are they spoilt?'

I frown at him before raising an eyebrow. He really is foreign sometimes.

'Urm? I don't know because they haven't done anything to scold the family name yet?' Correction- haven't been caught scolding the family name.

He smiles along with my awkward laughter, returning back to his chair when the waitrss returns to take our empty plates.

But while obsessing in his eyeline, she 'offhandly' grasps my plate with a crappy hand and my own knife nearly stabs me in the leg. And she doesn't even look let alone apologise just stares at me before grabbing the thing off my leg.

DID SHE JUST GIVE ME THE STINK-EYE?!

'Es?'

'Huh?'

'Can I interest you in dessert?'

Cullen, you could interest me in a colon examination!...I hate the way my brain thinks sometimes.

I am not a dessert person. I wasn't a dinner person either and at the moment and I certaintly wasn't a whole 'fill your gut and scrounge from the guy whose paying' kind of person. But I begrudgingly tear my eyes from glaring at the waitress and return to his smiling face. That gorgeously, bright smiling- and suddenly I'm nodding.

'Dessert sounds good?' I say dubiously.

'What would you like?'

'You pick.' I say cleverly, leaning closer and fluttering my eyes a little again. It's pathetic how easy it is to fall into this act.

He raises an eyebrow again and shifts a quick glance to the slag shoving her chest in his face.

'I don't think I could manage a big one on my own?' I say playfully, winking just at the perfect time. He looks like he's about to argue, changes his mind and simply points to something on the menu that I can't see.

This time he knows not to comment on my performance and simply pushes my refilled glass of water towards me.

'You aren't close?'

'Who?'

He laughs a little. 'Your mother and you?'

He knows we aren't close, he regularly has to listen to the screaming matches on the phone and the regular bitchy postcards through our door. I shake my head. We wouldn't be close if someone handcuffed us together and then sewed our sides up.

'I'm sorry. It can't be easy for you both.' He murmurs, sucking in a breath. I shrug with one shoulder. Which then has me thinking to his shoulder and then both shoulders and then both shoulders –naked, ugh.

Wait was I meant to say something? Was that a question?

'It's cool, she has five other children to uphold her honour. She's fine.'

'And you?' He persists. 'Are _you_ fine?'

I am for you, Mister.

'Sure?'

'In all manners of speaking?' He persists, sincerely.

Is that a reference to my torn vag or is he being nice again?

'I haven't exactly used it since your two week probation. How am I meant to know?' If this sounds bitchy it's because it is. It's not fair being on the edge of seat with an orgasm of the century just to have the giver of the orgasm be so…

Restrictive.

'No, no.' He corrects, his teeth almost catching the light. 'I meant about your boss?'

Oh.

Great.

'Of course'. I reply, but my tone is neutral verging on stone cold dead. Surprisingly, he detects that tone and lets the subject die while the slut of a waitress dessert is placed in front of him.

This guy is obsessed with health!

'Thanks,' he murmurs to the waitress in an attempt to dismiss her, and then pushes the full plate of strawberries to the very centre of our table.

' _Your_ mother then?' I ask, circling the plate with my fingertip.

He laughs shortly before it falls into a breathless sigh. 'Now I really _did_ kill her.'

Childbirth isn't murder, either drama-queen.

'Shut up, Cullen. You couldn't kill anything if you wanted to.' My reassurances are shit but I try to make it better by placing my hand on the top of his. He raises an eyebrow at it. Almost pouting and with the realisation that I'm crossing a boundary I pull my hand back.

'I know she was young, too young, when I was… conceived.' This isn't exactly correct dinner conversation but he's perked my interest and I just have to ask.

'How old?' I push.

'Fourteen.'

OUCH. Fourteen and pregnant? Daddy issues just developed into full-blown parental issues. All of which seems perfectly acceptable now.

He moves a few strawberries around the plate almost splitting them equally between us as he destalks my half for me with perfect concentration. I pick one he's just destalked and bite a juicy chunk off to encourage him to fill the silence. He doesn't look up from the plate.

'I think she used to work in the church he worked at…But he doesn't like to tell me much.'

'You don't speak about her?'

'Never.' He says, those blue eyes finally lifting to connect with mine.

His angelic features seem worn with sadness. I think back to the image of his father on the television this morning. His hair must have belonged to his mother, both colour and thickness, even the pinkness of his thin lips.

Cute traits that certainly didn't belong to the Bibl radicalist.

Wait- fourteen? Then she'd only be in her forties if she was alive? CULLEN'S FATHER IS WAY OLDER THAN FORTY. He's goddamn ancient! YUCK.

'Err?' I take a last gulp of the ice water to water the gasp of my throat. 'How old was _he_?'

'Too old.' He answers quickly, picking off the inedible greenery from a perfectly red strawberry. 'Far too old. From what I can work out he was working as a pastor of the Catholic Church. So he's pretty done more than offend the rights of God, there.'

He sarcastically shows me a 'thumbs-up' and grins too-widely to be trusted but then lets it evolve into a laugh and silencing the laugh with the fruit of the table.

I cringe a little, unexpectedly and offer him an apologetic look when he catches me.

'I bet you look like her.' I say after a while, tilting my head a little to imagine his face less gorgeously masculine and more rounded.

'Why? Because I'm so _innocent_?' He complains, attempting a playful tease and sounding nothing but bitter but the closing of his right eye suggests it's not personal dig.

He leans over to me now, initially for the strawberries but once he's grabbed a small handful he doesn't move.

'Because you're approachable. You look nothing like him.'

'You flatter me, Miss Platt.'

Not as much as you flatter me, you sack of hormones!

This is only made worse when he takes the strawberry in hand, bites off half and returns the rest to me. I keep my unblinking eyes on him when I slowly place my fingers in mouth and drop the fruit on my tongue. He shivers but says nothing.

Now more than ever, I want to return to the dangerous side of his curiosity

'Did you want to borrow the book from this morning? Just to finish it.' I mention after a moments pause. I'm only half joking. I know he doesn't want to read the rest but he's come so far- to give up now would be unexplainably frustrating and I'm desperate to know his opinion.

He wrinkles his nose.

'You can't get 20 chapters in and give up! That's infuriating!' I chide.

His laugh is gentle, his hand flat against his stomach like a painting. 'I'll think about it.'

'Why do you have to think about everything?!' I complain. 'Just act. Read the damn book!'

He chuckles properly now, letting his mouth take up the majority of his face as he voices the sound.

'Why do I need to? I know what's going to happen?'

'Sure you do.' I'm meant to be saying this to myself but it's a bit loud.

'Either he's going to give in and be all romantic or she's going to give in and he's going to get his way and it's going to end badly.' It sounds like a complaint. It should be a complaint, the book was insanely predictable.

My silence confirms his suspicions but he's nice enough not to make a big bravado of it.

'Why are you so obsessed with me reading or watching porn?!' He asks eventually, laughing more to distract from the colour in his cheeks.

Well shit.

Now I look bad.

 _I need you to look at porn so you're prepared if I jump you in the near future_ \- isn't the kind of thing that I think will win me favours.

I actually don't know what to say: _I need you to watch porn because you're sexually frustrating me and my co-workers_ \- doesn't sound great either.

'Now you're blushing, Miss Platt.'

'I am not!' I say defensively, leaning across to hit him with the back of my hand. He laughs more.

'Sometimes I would _love_ to be able to read your mind!' He sighs, cocking his head at me like I was an animal in a zoo.

Yeah? Well tough luck pretty boy, you wouldn't survive a day!

'I wouldn't wanna read yours.' I tease back. 'It would just be really boring anecdotes on your after school chess club.'

He snorts with laughter and the arsehole still looks attractive.

'You're not even _close_.'

Say fuck one more time and I'll show you how close I am.

'Alright, concerns about whose going to do the late shift at the hospital, then?'

He nods in a lazy fashion. 'You're getting warmer.'

'How you're going to explain to Tilly that at 25, you have _no_ sexual experience?'

He laughs really loud this time. 'Oooh, right where it hurts!'

'It should hurt!' I retort with a smirk, trying to hold my lip from laughing, too. 'It should be _aching_ with desire.'

I know I bloody am and it's only been a few days.

He takes a long drink of his water, eyes on the white table cloth, thinking. He rolls his shoulders back and uses his left hand to hide his smirk.

'This really bugs you, doesn't it?' He's still playful but also a little intrigued.

'You don't know what you're missing,' I sigh. And that's what pisses me off. He has no idea how panty warming he is. It's really fucking rude. Share the love.

'I'm sure I'll find out…' He says with a grin.

'Maybe, if you haven't put people off by then.'

He laughs again and it's a nice sound in the quiet dark of the evening. We've stayed a little longer than we'd planned to and yet I still don't want to leave. How many more hours of the guy could I pack in? I already live with him? I guess there could always be adjustments. The shower for example, let's save water and shower together?

'Have you seriously _never_ even been close with a girl?!' I complain, irritated.

I don't know why I complain, it makes him endearingly sweet on one hand and frustratingly innocent on the other. I should appreciate he's not being a disrespectful , arguably, him being a disrespectful ass would make my life ten times easier. Starting with the bug eyed waitress.

'I was _once_...' He says quietly.

My shock is evident and my jaw pretty much hits the table.

'You were?! What happened?!'

He snatches the last strawberry out of my hand again, takes another big slice out of it with his perfect teeth and then hands it back to me. The pink juice is slipping down the corner of his mouth and he uses a moist tongue to capture it. Thus adding more inspiration to my painting plans.

Who knew strawberries could be sexy?

I automatically move toward him to wipe the remaining juice away with the back of my hand but again the movement is normal…awkwardly normal. His dark eyes investigate my expression.

'One minute we were studying, I popped out for a bit, I don't remember why and she'd disappeared. I thought it was a game, like an idiot, and went searching…and there we are…'

'She just went missing?!' I sound like I don't believe him, which is accurate. I don't believe him.

'No, of course not. I found her in my father's room…legs locked around him…' His eyes widen when he says 'legs-locked' like it's all a big joke. A joke which I'm not finding funny?

What the _fuck_ ….

'That's part of the reason I moved country.' He states factually.

Is this happening? Did he actually say those words?! His father's freaking ugly though?! What is this world?!

'And you never sought anyone after it?' I ask, amazed and voice squeakily irritating. Listening to his life story is sadder than an elegy.

'Nah, course not. He's never far behind, like some kind of crazy person.' He has that grumble of irritation again. I feel like patting his shoulder (because they're fucking nice) or maybe comforting him with words but everything is a bit of a shock.

'Did you ever talk about it?' I ask, still unable to control the shock of my tone . Mate, I would've killed the guy. Well, alright I wouldn't of but I'd be beyond pissed. More pissed then he seems?

'Sort of. He told me that _as a child of God, I was meant to be pure_...I don't know why that excluded everyone else in that title but there we are.' He makes little inverted commas with both index fingers then smiles at himself. He's still playing the light-hearted flatmate which is doubly impressive.

'How did you not shag anyone out of frustration?!' I demand, sounding myself just as frustrated. He shrugs.

'I guess I was worried the same thing would happen…?'

I pause and let him take a drink.

'Do you still worry about that?' I'm aware that the string of conversation keeps getting longer and longer, it's already late evening.

'Not worry _per se._ I still think about it from time to time but I'm not worried. I wouldn't be surprised in all honesty.'

'He's an old man Carlisle. No one would give him a second look with you in their arms.'

Err.

Did I mention I'm too impulsive?!

Fuck.

He looks at me, silently at first before his face screws up in both laughter and confusion.

'Thank you?'

'I only mean because necrophilia isn't the done thing. Most girls prefer their partners to be alive!' I add in a rush. He laughs even more.

'That was a good save. Well done.'

'Thank you,' I murmur shyly.

'But-'

'But what?' I demand.

'You're blushing again…'

His fingertips on my cheeks are surprisingly light but most definitely unexpected. I nearly fall into his hands before (thank fuck) my brain kicks in.

'Time to head home, don't you think?' I say, pulling myself away from that gorgeous mouth.

If I stay there any longer, I'm going to kiss him, then I'm going to fuck him, then I'm going to make things awkward… If that was even possible?

He grins once again and nods, raising his hand to ask for the cheque before I even have time to blink.

* * *

'I think she likes you.' He says after a while.

Our slow walk from earlier is nothing compared to now. With full stomachs and aching legs, the movement of our feet closer towards home seems to be pretty much non-existent but the complaints aren't necessary. All the while he's silent, I can fool myself into thinking it was a date and not a concern for my lack of eating habits.

'Who?'

I love how he only ever rolls his eyes to me. It's annoying and ten-thousand% cheeky but I guess it meant he was comfortable around me. Comfortable enough to criticise at least.

'The waitress.'

The sound of my guffaw echoes into the street.

'She left her number on the receipt.' He says with a grin. He has his hands in his pockets which is making his biceps strain against his t-shirt and me drool endlessly. I wonder if he's cold having stolen his jacket but with even my legs warm enough in the brittle air, I'm sure Radiator-man is doing just fine.

'You are such a dumbass, Cullen. She was flirting with you!' Again the tone of my voice is weird and I cough to fix it. 'Besides, I wish you would've at least let me contribute to dinner. I feel like such a sterotype.'

'You can get the next one.' He promises, hand digging into his pocket to find the paper. It's a long list and though I reach on my tiptoes to see the numbers, he quickly hides it and tears off the note to give to me.

I'm glaring, glaring even more when my eyes scan over the curvy scribble tacked on the bottom. _I've never seen such a perfect ass. Give me a call sometime,_ followed by a number. My eyes are going to burn a hole through this bastard piece off- _Your man wasn't too ugly either._

'Told you.' He sings smugly, watching the uncomfortable twist of my face.

'B-ut! She was flirting with you!' I accuse, both glaring and looking blankly at the reciept.

'Or rather- you were flirting with her.' He corrects playfully. The blonde arch of his eyebrow suggests that he doesn't believe my innocence.

' _Flirting_?!' I half shriek.

'Es, chill out. You don't have to phone her.' He is so laughing at me right now.

'In what way?!' I demand, still half gaping at him. He looks at me as if it was obvious.

'You know, that whole...seduction thing you had going on there-'

I literally make a teenage noise of revolution.

'You couldn't take your eyes off her.' He says, sounding both like he's joking and that he's not. I feel my whole sense of worth crack.

Okay, let me clear a few things up. As a self-professed party girl and one that distinctly dislikes any demands on convention, I have been known to spread the love with the girls. Here meaning that on the rare times we've had parties, on two seperate occaisions I attempted to partake in a little girl-on-girl action. Which ended horrifically, with me wanting dick and leaving half way through the act to get it. There was also that time that I got really drunk and kissed Alice. But that hardly counts because I vomited straight after.

Point meaning: though I am in full support of funking up the jam with some lucious lady, in NO UTTER UNIVERSE was I looking at _her_ for flirting.

And it fucking sucked that all of todays attempts were flooding down the drain.

'Ugh, that is not true! She was practically exposing herself to you-'

The raised eyebrow silences my half rant. It's pretty hard to get terriotorial on someones manners when you literally blackmailed your handsome sexy doctor friend to examine the very intimate area of your body.

'I was not flirting...with _her_?' I emphasise, making an utter fool out of myself asI half confess my behaviour.

'So you _say_.' He sings, avoiding my face in order to stick out that big head of his.

I'm still gawking more he doesn't believe me. Hence when my paitience breaks.

'You are such a-'

'A?'

Like an utter twit I just stop and stutter for a full three minutes.

He hasn't intended to wind me up but then he's not over-apologising like he usually would either, so with the pent up frustration of a furious Spanish bull, we speed up in the walk to our house. So much so that I realise after a few minutes that I'm literally stomping.

'Aw, come on Es. I didn't mean it. Don't be angry.'

'I'm not.' I growl, walking a little bit of a step infront so I don't have to be seduced by that winning face of his.

'What did I do?' He asks, catching up with me with no issue. He's smirking, I can hear it in his voice. My furious fast paced walking doesn't get very far. The edge of my shorts is rubbing against the bandage of my thigh from the other day and it isn't long till I have to stop and rearrange it.

'Did you need me to look at anything?' He offers politely, fondly looking at me as though I were...a sibling or something?! It was disgusting and completely demoralising.

'I'm _fine_.'

'You don't look fine.'

'HA!' I declare bitterly.

He frowns and waits for me to start up walking again before following.

'Aw come on, what is it? What have I said to annoy you?'

'I'm not annoyed.' I say sternly.

'Tell your face.'

Again my said face, falls open and I glare at him.

We're not far from home now and it's Wednesday. Wednesday night is the night for Murder Files, it's the rules, all three of us have to watch it together and I'm just so-. GAHHH.

Without realising, I half race him up our porch-steps towards the front door but he gently touches my shoulder.

'Just tell me?' He begs, but the smile on his face conflicts the sincerity of his enticing appearance.

'I've got a headache.' I mutter quickly. It's true, I do have a headache, I hit my head today. But looking at the bruises of purple under his eyes it would be fair to suggets that Cullen had a far worse headache than I did and his was from something as simple as sleep deprivation.

'Please just tell me.'

'Thank you for dinner.' I say dismissively, my hand poised ready on the door. The window is open and I can hear Edward watching TV, waiting for us.

I try to ignore this pretty arse clit irratator but he gently turns my chin towards him with a finger so I'm forced to face him. I was so obvious today, I gave it everything, how the fuck did he think I was flirting with some tramp?!

'Es?'

'Alright, fine!' I hiss. 'It pisses me off something-chronic that you can be so amazingly and wonderfully _interested_ , so _passionate_ and so _intrigued_ and _confident and_ damn-right bloody _sexy_ -' I make sure to emphasise every word so that they come hurtling at him like wild fire. He simply raises his eyebrows.

'-And yet so fucking _NAIVE_ ' I conclude, semi loudly, and glaring once more at that crooked smile.

'But I wasn't-' He comes closer, and the nearer he is the more I see the vulnerability in that perfectly crooked smile. The shyness and the over-confidence and the sweetness and a simple brilliant mouth of what _could_ be the most immeasurable amount of passion-

'For fuck sake, Cullen!' I groan, throwing my head-back in exasperation. 'No experience with a girl, _huh_?!'

Taking his stooping figure to my advantages, I half throw my mouth onto his in an attempt to clasp that unyielding desire- And it turns out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life up till now.

Under my very shaky skin, not just his mouth but his whole posture, all of him goes rigid in a sense of utter deniability. He feels hard, cold almost and completely distant. Here meaning completely un-Cullen like. And the longer I stay, the tenser he grows untill finally,I admit defeat and pull away, numbed with rejection

Considering I'm inconcievably disappointed I'm surprised I'm not furious. He straightens up beside me, his eyes still closed and that already crooked mouth seems to become even more wrought with indecision.

'Well...' I look apologetically to him and smile awkwardly, my voice shaking. 'Now you're not completely without experience?' Everything I say from here on out, I deliberetely twist to sound like a favour to him. 'Your welcome.'

He opens his eyes, his cheeks enflamed in pure fire and his expression almost disgusted. Which for my ego isn't great but I guess for my sense of reasoning, it helps. He's not interested, I feel like a twit, now we can move on and I can shag who I like.

'Ugh. Ye.' He swallows hard and looks to the floor in embarrassment, mumbling a silent 'Thank you.'

'I'll see you inside.' I say with a grin, an untimed one but this was good. It was a restoring of the normal and throwing our front door open , I happily greet Edward as I pass.

I'm certain Cullen spends about 20 minutes outside, simply sitting down on the steps contemplating death. I can see him outside my bedroom window as I'm getting changed, hand over his mouth like I violated him or something. He's completely blank just staring at the road while he thinks for stupid amount of time. I'd almost say he was lonely but then- he's obviously not.

Hmm. I better explain myself. So finding a piece of paper, I scrawl the lie; ' _I'm sorry, I felt sorry for you and wanted to help. Didn't mean to cross a line_ ' and leave it on his pillow before joyously skipping down stairs.

Sounds warped doesn't it but let me explain. Though admittedly, Cullen is always going to be at that standard of undeniably attractive and I will no longer be able to ignore it, all the while he's not interested means I'm completely sane. Man, to think I tried to snog the guy?! How warped can I be?!

I was finally free to be completely immoral once again and forget out whatever was going on in the Saint's head. We could agree to just be normal?

This goes out the window somewhat however when I see him silently sat in the corner of the sofa, seeming startled, emtionally numb yet still a symbol of pure beauty. But I guess his revoultion just shows he wasn't ready. He really is a pure guy. I could live with that. It was far easier than accidentallly sleeping with him, that's for sure.


	15. Reasons why you don't kiss your flatmate

_**Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukka and many other festive seasons wishes! I'm sorry this is late (blame Chrimbo) but I hope you've have a lovely season and that you enjoy this chapter!**_

 _ **Thanks very much!**_

* * *

The two boys chat a little while I fix a secretly stiff drink in the kitchen but even from here the conversation is difficult. More difficult than Edward's teenage behaviour. Or his awkwardness. And guess whose to blame.

'Carlisle, for the _eighth_ time, will you pass me the bloody remote?!'

It's not like him to be so distracted but with tired, unfocused eyes, he moves automatically to pass the stick of plastic into Edward's open palm, his mind clearly on something else. The kid sighs a little louder after snatching it off him and then the sound of our Detective show comes on: the dramatic intro, the cutting scenes, the creepy jingles. The only bonus is with my focus on the television, it's easier to pretend I dont feel so shit about my evening's actions. Even though it's obvious somethings not right. You can see it in our very body language. We couldn't look more disconnected than if I was Hitler and he, the Easter Bunny.

'Esme?' Cullen whispers.

First bad sign. From Es to Esme. From Friend to flatmate. From nuisance to a nobody. From I think you fucked up to you worthless cow.

I've planted myself on the floor with crossed legs despite the large amount of room on the sofa next to our pearlier saint, I couldn't sit next to him. Not when he is clearly so diisgusted by my very being (not that I blame him, but it still sucks). I couldn't be more confused, weren't we just discussing masturbation yesterday? How was a kiss too much and a discussion on self-pleasure not? For fuck sake, we discussed sex positions!

I BROUGHT THE BASTARD, PORN?!

…

To be honest, I just didn't want to admit to myself he didn't find me as attractive as I thought he did. Who would want to admit that they were the one to break that fragile line of ice between flirting and infatuation? Who wanted to admit that _they_ misread the scene? Every time I close my eyes, I see the horror of his expression when I pulled back, the dumbfounded disgust of what I'd done, his pale face and his deep frown.

It sucked.

There's another shy cough behind my head and then I remember I was being called. He won't look at me when he speaks, even his tone falls to the room rather than me as an individual.

'Esme?'

' _What_?' That was rude of me. That was too rude. He thinks I'm pissed off. He thinks I'm hurt by his rejection. He thinks- He can't possibly be making any judgement when he refuses to look at me?

'A-Are those mine?' Cullen takes a breather before almost smirking to my attire though his cheeks are igniting the fire. The rosier they grew, the more golden he seemed to look. The more inviting, the more captivating and just goddamn, fricking fuckable.

'GUYS, _SHHH_!'

Edward can't see me poke my tongue out at him because he's so engrossed in the picture on the mantle but after, I bravely return a quick nod to Cullen. So what? Wasn't he meant to be all about charity and sharing and what not?

'Hm.' Is all he says and then he turns away from my disgusting figure as quick as humanly possible.

Hmm, back you bastard.

So, yes while I did _technically_ steal his underwear (hence his confusion), it wasn't like he noticed they were missing until now and besides, it's warm in here and these make my ass look good... to some people. It's not like he ever put them to good use, either!

But the warm room gets warmer after a few minutes. Not because of the murder on our favourite show but because I'm being stared at. To the point where it's painfully obvious. And because I'm being stared at, I stare at nothing but the screen while completely missing the story.

'It's got to be the teacher.' Edward murmurs to himself, scowling a little and putting his hand to his mouth not dissimilar to the exact position Cullen has leant himself into at the moment. But it's no competition as to who looks better.

I on the other hand have had my eyes glued to the screen for the longest 30 minutes of my life without picking up _any_ information. I'm thinking of nodding along but then it'll be obvious I wasn't watching. Edward and I never agree.

'I doubt it, Kid. It's probably the wife.' It's weird how his little fall of respectability (by having someone as lowly as me attempt to kiss him) has reminded him of his stature. He seems taller again, back to how he was when I would ignore his judgements, challenging sounding but playful as if he's pushed his vulnerabilities to the back of his mind.

This is what I assume, not from being able to see him (because I can't) but rather the heat on the back of my neck and the way his face could almost be seen as angled towards me. Meaning this; I'm so pathetic, I'm trying to convince myself that Cullen is finding me entertaining again.

Edward turns in his seat to offer a patronising glare to his friend. 'Have you not been paying attention at all?! Of course it isn't the wife!'

I let out a weak breather. My head is pounding once again. In all honesty, I doubt it ever stopped, it was just easier to ignore with a gorgeous distraction invading my eye line. The combination of humiliation, (all of today's humiliations from the fall, to the waitress, to the attempted snog), had just built up to its peak in the last half-an hour. Inside: my head was screaming. Unlike our detective on screen however who seems completely unaware of all his battle wounds. He's heading into the basement, weapon poised and feet stealthy as he measures his every movement. There's a scream, the light switch comes on and-

Adverts. Of course.

'See? It's the teacher!' Edward summises. He curls a hand around his bottle of beer, takes a swig of it and then makes a face of disgust.

'Bet the electric bill?' Cullen says smartly, finding the courage from his mousey posture to join me in a smile.

'I bet you the electricity bill _and_ the week's washing up. They literally just proved it wasn't the wife!' Despite Cullen's warnings, Edward still happily holds out his hand for him to shake. They break apart to their original seating and as if we weren't there, Carlisle extends himself along the full length of the sofa like a cat and props is head up by me at the arm's edge with his feet hanging loosely off the side. He's got his arm in the same position as he did from my bedroom this morning: a flat hand against the craziest parts of his hair with his chest rising and falling with perfect distinction.

When the programme comes back on, I have to force myself to watch it and within a second-

'What the _fuck_?!'

'Should've been paying attention, Edward.' He chides, playfully. His smile turns lazy, half hanging off the side of his face without control. So I wasn't being stared at then, not when his attention was taken by those stupid bloody actors!

'It couldn't have been her! It-'

'Electric bill, right?'

'Piss off.'

Edward is reluctant to discuss absolutely anything for the rest of the evening except episodes of programmes that we've only half been watching and because I don't want to seem out of character by going to bed and because I _especially_ don't want to be left alone to face my mistakes, I just keep my mouth shut and endure several other pointless TV appearances while trying to form an inspiration for the submission in my painfully abusive head.

I've got my image. I'm thinking about swapping the colour contrast: enhancing the dark as if the main figure is stealing the light of the picture just by his presence. I want dark eyes, like midnight dark with sheet-white skin almost opaque looking, silky colours and such.

'She won't talk to me.'

My eyes shift to the voice's owner.

I'm frowning. Frowning before pulling myself up to a seating position again. My eyes feel heavier than expected and my back and my coccyx and my head and my vagina and my thigh and my wrist are fucking killing -. But I guess that's a sign. Not sure what about, maybe just a warning about boys and Tilly-no-mates.

I look to both the boys. The first one has uncharacteristically fallen asleep, head turned towards the sofa back with a blank expression as if he was as peaceful as paradise itself. The younger male is glaring at the television as if he's totally absorbed in its every being. He doesn't even look like he's just spoken. He's too busy glaring.

'Who?' I ask.

He looks at me very quickly before giving a sigh of disgust. Oh.

'Bella?' I guess, trying to sound interested. I should've known that.

He nods and scratches his stubbly chin.

'Oh, Edward.' I sigh, softly. Er?! Did I just sound sympathetic?! 'Urm. What happened?'

He's silent for a long time, summoning the courage I'm guessing, before looking over to Carlisle who is breathing softly, his grey shirt tanned with the day's events all over it. Including more of my blood. And grass stains. And what might even be food? What is that? Dribble?! I pull myself backwards, alarmed and turn back to Edward.

'Did something I shouldn't of…'

This catches my attention.

'Like?!'

He frowns again as if not expecting my panic and then resolves himself by watching his hands.

'I went to kiss her.' He says bitterly.

DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS AT ALL. JUST KEEP QUIET, HE WONT NOTICE YOU.

'Oh.'

I don't really know where to look. If I look at him, he'll see my awkwardness. If I look to the floor, I'll look unsympathetic and if I look to Cullen- I refuse to look at that belly-coiling, bastard.

'Any advice?' He asks meekly, attempting to lighten his face with a smile that doesn't arrive. I want to scream no but he just looks so devastated-. Do I hug him? That's what Carlisle would do. No, that's weird isn't it? I don't want him to think I'm coming on to him. BLEURGH.

'Well… how did it come about?' I ask eventually. It hurts acting so much like I care when I've half chosen to ignore Bella's very existence.

'What?'

'The kissing?' I say, highlighting the obviousness.

'It didn't. He reminds bluntly.

I look to Cullen again, wince slightly before moving to sit by the armchair a little further away from Sleeping Beauty. Edward and I are both pretending to look at the TV, even staring at it when I turn it off leaving us in an awkward darkness.

But the darkness seems to help because it doesn't take long till he opens up a little.

'I thought we were-… I thought-.' He groans and, I think, throws his head into his hands. 'I misread the signals.'

'There _were_ signals then?' More than me, Kid, I just acted.

'Uh-. No. Yes? Maybe? - Oh, I don't _know_.' He takes another breath and then reduces his voice to a whisper. 'We were talking about emotions and stuff and how our minds over-react to stuff…'

'Riiight.'

'And I went to kiss her…and she flinched.'

'Like horror-violent-flinch or she-wasn't-expecting-it-flinch?'

'Is there a difference when she won't return my calls?' He sounds miserably cold. I wonder what Carlisle would say if he was awake. He was always better at advice, especially guy advice. Especially advice for Edward. Kid must be desperate if he's coming to me.

'When did it happen?' I ask, trying to sound reassuring.

'Two days ago.'

This doesn't prompt any new support as I thought it would, it's just silent. Silent apart from the great snorer over there. How deep of a sleep could you get into a sofa as uncomfortable as that one?

'What would you do, if you were in this position?'

HAHAHAHAHAHA I WANT TO CRY.

'From your perspective or Bella's?' I force myself to answer.

He sighs deeply. 'Both.'

'If I was you I'd probably try to forget about it. Waiting is only going to make it worse. Maybe try to act not-interested.'

'Really? _Not_ interested?'

'It's just a suggestion, Kid. Calm down.'

'Kid?!' He repeats, aghast.

'What?' I ask confused and showing blank hands in a raised position.

'Since when do you call me _Kid_?!'

…

Urm. All the time?...

'Since you needed someone else to sort out your relationship problems!' I snap back, folding my arms across my chest and trying desperately hard to blow up the TV with my fury.

'Ouch.'

I sigh again, releasing some of my irritation with it.

'I'm sorry- I didn't mean it. I-.' I voice another silent groan in my chest, close my eyes for a second and try again to sound more experienced. 'If I was you I'd…maybe write a letter or try to talk to her about it in person. If you just keep texting her, she's going to feel trapped.'

'A letter?'

He has a way of making everything I say sound like a swear word.

'Sure. That way she can't ignore what you're saying unless she burns it. And let's face it, who gets letters nowadays? No one, exactly. An anonymous letter is best.'

I am a fucking genius.

'What about if someone else reads it?' He asks lowly, clearly embarrassed.

'If you write it iambic pentameter, it might be published in a century's time.'

'Hilarious.'

'I'd read an anonymous letter. It sounds mysterious!'

He contemplates the idea for a long time before thanking me, almost too sincerely. I focus my eyes on him in the dark. His copper locks are messier than usual, his slight mouth more wrought and his posture tight.

'You really like her, huh?' I say slowly.

His chin moves in the dark. 'She's…remarkable.'

She's a non-entity. Boringly plain features that somehow made her the most amazing girl to Edward. Which was a bit of a disappointment. But then it'd be even more disappointing if they didn't sort it out. I couldn't live with the Kid being any stroppier than he is right now-

'Esme?'

'Edward?'

He rolls his eyes. 'Don't tell…' he starts to whisper again. 'Please don't tell him about…'

'Secrets safe but you know what he's like, he'll know if somethings up.' You couldn't escape him, it was infuriating.

'Oh I don't know. He's seems pretty focused about _some_ thing else-.'

I can't tell if Edward is smiling, I know he's stood up to leer over Cullen, probably about to wake him up if I don't jump in as soon as a possible. Which is what I do.

'Don't.' I warn just as he's about to pinch into the perfect torso of our landlord.

'It'd be funny?' He tries to persuade. But I act without thinking and slap his hand away.

'Seriously, don't. He hasn't slept properly in a few days, he deserves some rest.'

He raises an eyebrow at me and without thinking, I turn my head to my feet, grateful for the dark to hide my blush.

'And you haven't done any washing?'

'What?'

He points to my legs, just above where there's a bandage, fabric tight against my thighs. God bless the man's underwear choice. And curse my fucking choices.

'You're right. Maybe I should let you wake him. He enjoys you company more .' His eyes simply lighten up with gleefully evil thoughts and despite my glare and my anger and my scowl, I have a feeling my blush is again noticeable in the dark.

'Night 'sme.'

'Just as a warning, I've seen Bella in gym shorts. If you want my help, you'd better hush your cheek.'

He's already bundling up the stairs before I have the chance to push my threat into action. I hesitate by Carlisle's side. I had to wake him up, save his spine and what not. I also should really say thank you again for dinner…and apologize… But I didn't even want to think about that. I just wanted the ground to swallow me whenever I thought of-.

His right hand flinches on his own stomach and when I lean closer he stirs a little. So I pull away.

Maybe it was bad breath? But it couldn't have been considering the amount of mints I'd stolen from the bar. Maybe I was just too much? Maybe he _does_ see me as a sort of family member?... Who the fuck discusses bedroom habits with their family, though?!

'Are you intending to stare at me all night, Miss Platt?' Mumbles my favourite sound.

'No.' I half shriek out of fright, pushing my foot far out and joining it so that we're at a large distance from each other. He still has his eyes closed but rubs them with both hands before stretching and then putting both hands behind that perfectly bent spine to sit up.

'I thought you were asleep…' I confess awkwardly, again looking at my chipped nail polish rather than his tired but yet still beautiful face.

'I was until I heard you breathing on me.' He chuckles slightly, but I seem to forget it's another good sound and continue with my eyes to the floor.

'Sorry.'

'I was joking?' But again I don't say much which forces him to take action and move out of his make shift sleeping sofa. 'Coming?'

'To bed?' I ask. To _whose_ bed?

He goes to check his watch but finds it absent from his wrist so pats around his pockets to find- a packet of pills. He shows me the white and then throws them in the dark for me to catch.

'Dissolvable.' He explains.

'I'll take them now, then.' I say quietly, though there isn't much sign of a headache going on just a white noise I'm desperate to ignore.

He mentions something about reading the instructions but it's lost in a wide yawn and then he rubs both eyes again. 'Don't forget to change your bandage, either.'

I touch the edge of it on my thigh and wince from the slight pressure on my sore skin. I shouldn't hate Tilly too much but fuck me, could you be any more of a wet flannel?! It wasn't like she was suffering with the pain of coffee to the skin!

'Goodnight, Esme.'

My own mouth stumbles over the words and so I just feign exhaustion and wave before hiding out in the kitchen and grabbing the gin from the cupboard. I'm just about to pour the honey liquid into the tumbler, over the crushed powder when I stop again.

Shouldn't rally be taking medicine with alcohol, that's not good? But the more I think about the reason for the pills, the worse the headache gets and then I remember throwing myself at him and Cullen looking physically repulsed.

Suddenly, the small tumbler of gin because half a glass followed by another half-glass and then two more untill my head is positively steaming.

I'm more than jumpy having swallowed far too much of a bad liquid and when finally I think I can drag myself up the stairs and into bed, the home phone rings. I pick it up automatically.

'Fuck sake A-liss, it's-like _one_ in the morning?!' I'm slightly aware that I'm slurring a little bit and have to blink several times to try and clear some space in my buzzing brain.

In all honesty to her though, I haven't looked at my mobile since throwing it into Cullen's backpack this morning.

The breathing changes into a weird chuckle, harsh and resolute, completely unlike Alice's chiming voice.

' _Who's Alice_?'

'Urm. Whose thiiis?' Nice one Esme, the worst part is that I know exactly who it is and I know I don't want it confirmed, I just want it gone. Man, if I knew I was going to have this phone call, I might've have taken several more glasses.

'Take a guess, my little brown eyes.'

Without thinking, I press End-Call and let the phone fall to the floor, staring awkwardly at it, debating about how much trouble I might get in if I just trashed it here and now before running away and hiding in a cave. But it rings again and because I don't want the boys to wake up, I answer it before the second ring goes.

'It cut out.' I lie stiffly.

Luckily, the topic of conversation seems to change from frivolous chatter to unexplained absences immediately.

'I presume you'll be at work tomorrow? After missing the whole day, you naughty thing.'

The nausea in my stomach reaches a new high and I nod before realising I'm on the phone.

'I've got lessons-' I say as an introduction, trying to hide my hiccup with my hand.

'It'll be worth your time Miss May.'

Miss May? _May_? Who the fuck is-… Oh _hell_ no.

'I'll try.' I mumble pathetically. My head is heavier than the White House. Drinking and medicating as so fucking stupid.

'Try harder and you'll be rewarded.' The voice whispers and I can imagine the smarmy smile growing larger with each second, the grimy teeth drooling with saliva. My head is like a drumbeat to a warning.

'I've got to go.' How weird is it that my voice sounds completely different when speaking to my boss? Or maybe that's the drugs?

'To bed, I presume?'

'Uh.' My thumb is hovering back over that button, the desperation rising in in my throat like vomit itself.

'What will you be wearing?'

A fucking snowsuit if it shuts you up. My eyes catch the dark stairwell, the complete silence of the large living room and I shiver a little. 'I'm- _I've_ got to go.' I repeat.

'Saving all the mischief for tomorrow?'

'Go'night.' I try again, why I wish him a good night is beyond me, it just proves my idiocy.

'Dream of me.'

That tips me off the edge and without thinking I hang up again. Luckily for me, he doesn't ring back.

* * *

It's only half way through my headache that I realise I'm in a severe amount pain and after chewing on some other vulgar powder medicine, I scrub at my teeth and head into bed.

It's cold in my room. The kind of cold that makes you want to bury your head in the sand for years on end. I can just about wriggle my toes without complaint but with the wiggling of my toes comes the awful scratching of my bandage to the duvet. I can't really bring myself to change it now I've gotten myself settled but it is causing agro and I can't stop thinking about it.

But, I let it go. I let all today's utter shite leave me and lay on the cold, unfamiliar bed, trying to focus on not hurting.

When there's a creak.

We live in a semi-old house, creaking, squeaking and squawking isn't unusual. It's almost normal. Though there is something sinister about this creak. Like it's a tentative lean on my window frame before bearing all weight onto it and the sounds get louder. The louder the sounds, the more difficult it is to be reasonable especially when the creaking starts to sound like it's coming nearer.

Something touches my scaly skin and I scream so loudly, I frighten myself out the room, breathless and startled.

Within seconds, both boys (and the several other double figures from my deluded eyes) come charging out both distressed and confused. Edward's still heavy with sleep, so heavy that he barely has time to make a sarcastic comment.

'What's up? Are you okay?!' Cullen demands. He puts his hand out over my wrist and pulls me closer so that I'm positioned behind him as the three of us face my bedroom door. I say three but I can barely focus myself to count properly. There could be seventeen of us if I were to trust my deluded eyes.

I don't reply because I'm still trying to catch my breath all the while trying to still seem brave and under control with my skin still crawling.

'Stay here,' Carlisle says softly and slowly, he pushes my bedroom door open with a closed fist. Edward follows him, stealthily and I tremble on behind like the wuss of the back. We stay in silence, forcing our hearing to exceed its limits before someone switches on my light switch to simply see my tousled bedcovers.

The Kid's sigh is so dismissive and so fed up that I feel myself well-up in unexplainable tears of embarrassment.

'Another spider?' He jokes, watching Cullen guide the pest(s) from my bed sheets to his hand and then from his hand to the open window.

Which in itself is weird considering I thought I'd closed that. I rub my temples with a sweaty hand.

'Felt like someone was breathing on me!' I say defensively, shuddering once more when I think about the creepy guest in my bed. Ew, spiders.

'All gone now,' Cullen promises reassuringly and he shows me both hands to prove his innocence.

I mumble my apologies and try to restore my faith in the room as they tiresomely return to bed.

'Night then, Es.'

'WAIT!' And again without thinking, I grasp tightly onto Cullen's hand. He looks at it for the same length of time as today except he seems a little more amazed at it then confused.

'It was just the one, I promise.' He repeats with a lazy smile.

The difficulties in trying to summon sassy courage while standing opposite your rejecter is simply unnameable. Especially when there's double of them and you're struggling to work out which one is the original.

'If you think I'm sharing the bed with eight-legged, furry freaks- you've got another thing coming!'

He restrains his smile with determination.

'Even if there's none in the bed?' He argues, watching Edward ignore my useless flirt fighting and return to his room.

'It might have laid its eggs or something-just-EURGH'

The smile cracks into a smirk.

' _Fiiiine_! You can stay with me.' But the more he tries to seem annoyed, the more he cant help but smile. 'If-'

'If?' I repeat, bemused.

'If you change your bandage, it's disgustingly vile.'

Charming.


	16. Reasons why not to drink and medicate

_**Th** **ank** **you so much for your gorgeous reviews! So unbelievably grateful and I hope this chapter adds to the excitement!**_

 _ **I must confess I had a semi disaster with the next two pieces- I wrote them all out, fell in love with it and then magically managed to lose it which SUCKS but I've done my best to recreate them to their original piece and I hope they'll be just as great! Thank you!**_

 _ **Super grateful for all your lovely reviews and would be just as forever grateful if you'd continue to share the love!**_

* * *

I stumble after him into his perfect room and help to rearrange his bed accordingly. The pillows are set in a diagonal line of pairs down the bed as if he simply threw himself on all of them for purposes of comfort. Saying that-. He rubs the back of his neck into his hair and the thick ends try to curl upwards due to their length as they just reach his shirt collar. He's wearing his grey shirt still and his flimsy shorts- he hasn't even taking his trainers off yet. Though I have to blink several times to convince myself I'm seeing right.

He distributes the pillows evenly and silently, throwing the one from his chest to my side and then fluffing it to a perfect size. Now I can't stop looking. His purple under-eyes are a stark contrast to his pale skin and his hands shake a little as he straightens out his duvet. Every so often, even his body waves just slightly that I think he's going to faint, or maybe I'm going to faint? We're both untrustworthy on our feet.

'What?' He asks with a forced smile.

Yet again, I jump up a few feet because the tables have turned and I'm the pussy. 'Nothing.'

'Nothing? Why are you staring?'

Fuck.

'I'm not staring, I'm… phasing.' At least that's what I think it's called.

'Phasing?' he repeats, turning my words into a yawn that he tries to politely hide.

'Yeah, phasing. Phasing in and out of reality. I'm tired and I'm wondering when these shit drugs are going to work-.' My poor pounding head.

Okay… I wasn't expecting my mouth to come out with that. Apparently he was, because he's smirking.

'My mistake.' He replies, apologetically. 'I thought you were trying to get me to change that _revolting_ bandage for you.' He nods to my thigh where the cloth is turning grey and soggy with everyday grime. Without warning, I gag and shut my eyes closed to avod looking at it.

'You know what Cullen, why be so _rude_?! I didn't even say _anything_ and here you are criticising my every-'…

Is that me? That's my voice? Why am I talking, I didn't plan to say anything? My mouth is still moving, why is it still moving? Why won't it just stop-

WHAT THE FUCK AM I SAYING?!

His eyes positively burst out their sockets before he reclaims his dignity and raises that eyebrow at me but my roll call of unstoppable sounds keep falling out of the trashcan that is my mouth.

He wiggles an index finger to beckon me towards him but I'm losing my balance so much right now all the while still complaining at him for things that can't be his fault-.

'-You're just so clever and you bloody-well know it-' I continue to ramble but he steadies my head with two flat palms and squints into my blurry vision.

'Follow my finger.' He instructs with smile and I'm very aware of him staring at both of my wide eyes.

''M not a child!'

But he pulls my eyelid up a little and my arm hits out at him without command. My head is hurting so bad, the last thing I need is this Bozo pushing and pulling at me. He takes another look over me, half laugh and half groans with his apparent diagnosis.

'I think someone's feeling a little high, don't you?' He concludes after a minute and with half a smirk, he lets himself burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter as I drowsily attempt to glare at him.

'I'll have you know I aint never been high!' Aint never used the word aint in a sentence, either. Until now. Fuck. 'I don't _do_ drugs!' I try to argue but there's something in my line of vision that's taken up my interest.

Holy fucking Wow. Check out all those colours! They're so bright. I've never seen a blue so blue or a darkness so dark and light and-shit, look at my hands, look how they move. They're like dancers. I blink a little harder and wave my hand slowly in front of my face, watching the rays of light that follow after it along with the several other blurry versions of my chubby artist hands.

This is mental.

'Esme?'

'Look!' I half yell and I repeat the action in front of his face. He seems to be a bit concerned at first and then that smile takes over until that's all he is. Just a smile with perfect teeth and a pink mouth.

'You were changing your bandage?' He reminds with a tired look. Let's face it, he was finding me hilarious, you could read it in the way he couldn't stop watching me.

Though to be honest I had no idea why I was such a mass cause of entertainment?

Look at my hands! This is so amazing! Imagine if I could paint this!

'WO-Ah!' Somehow I seem to be on the floor which is weird considering I was stood up just a second ago? But this floor. Wow. Every loop of thread is touching my very fingertips, every slight fuzz of carpet against my skin, coarse and smelling citrus like. Like a forest with orange trees and lemon trees and-. Wow, look at that wall. It's so… _wall_ like. And resolute. And so flat. It's actually 2-D. What is going on?!

'Yes, Esme. Very magic. Your bandage?'

' _So_ magic.' I repeat. Everything on my hands feels so….wow. So smooth. Who knew wallpaper could be this awesome?

'Hon, come on.'

Suddenly the big smile is back in front of view, wider and rumbly as it makes some weird sound, a familiar sound. A jovial sound that I want to touch. Can you touch sound? Why doesn't that sound right? I want to touch the sound. And the colours!

But my several hands, all of them sway against the floor, feeling the material again when I find something that isn't soft. It's crunchy. This isn't carpet? It isn't the right beige. It's more colourless. Like a _painful_ white with sharp unsymmetrical edges.

'Come on now, off the floor.' More of that rumbly sound as I commentate my actions aloud.

What's the crunchy thing? Why is it so small? Oh my God-It expands! Another gasp leaves my mouth as I play with the white hard stuff in my view. But then I spread it out and it's like the wall. It's like it's meant to be flat but it's been all compressed.

'It spreads out!' It's so thin, too. Why am I feeling weirdly jealous?

'For the love of-. It's just paper, Esme?'

But look, the crumpled sheet. It's perfect. I thought it was white but there's lines and circles of black on it, in squiggles along the plainness. I push away the face that keeps being brought up in front of me, try to ignore the happy rumbling and look at that hard, flat thing again.

'Jesus, I can't leave you alone for a minute without you doing something troublesome!'

That jovial sound keeps coming in my ears and after a second, I recreate it before realising its laughter. I'm laughing, why am I laughing? What's so funny? Is Cullen laughing? That's a funny sound: Cullen. Why do I like saying it so much? It sounds so good.

'Jesus?' I repeat, focusing on the sound again.

'Forget Jesus, go get that bandage sorted. And try not to-'

My wobbly legs seem to prefer the floor however, despite being heaved back up a second ago and once again, my knees are pressing dents into the giggly face is by my cheeks, the blue eyes hidden with shut lids of laughter.

'-Fall.' He finishes and somehow, I'm pulled up once again to stand on my untrustworthy feet. I feel so dizzy and all the colours in the room, it's just so-

'Bandage, Esme!'

'I'm doing it!' I complain, wobbling towards what I'm sure is the bathroom but with so many flat surfaces and so many _colours_ -. I'm so confused.

My expression explains all when I finally reach the bathroom. My eyes look glassy and very different. My face is drawn, my balance still wobbly and my brows are furrowed. I try to touch that person in the mirror but our hands block the view.

The room is spinning so fast at this moment, I was standing? Maybe I'm standing now? No, I'm now on the bath edge? Yeah, I can see my legs. I think they're my legs. They're bulgy and ugly and familiar. Why is the room spinning? My leg has that funny square on them, the thing I'm meant to get rid of, I think. Why are my legs so ugly? Why can't they be more like Alice's legs? Or Bella's. Or even, God-Forbid, Blondie's legs... They all had people who like their legs. Their partner-people don't just like they're legs. They like everything _including_ their legs.

My head hurts so bad, I just want to sleep. OW! Where is that coming from, that pain?! That patch, that weird grey square on my leg, why is it hurting? I try to pull it away again and groan loudly before slipping from the bath edge into the dry bath with a clatter.

And I let out a grimaced giggle as I try to awkwardly pull my weight back up before giving up again. The walls are moving so fast that my eyes are getting sore. Why does my leg hurt? My head hurts, too. It's pounding. That knocking just won't stop.

'Esme Platt, if you don't open this door in the next three seconds, I'm coming in!'

Why is the room spinning so _quickly_? I can't see the colours properly maybe they're yellow or green or blue? I don't remember what blue is anymore-.

Oh, it's that colour, it's that colour isn't it, the circles that are looking at me with the black circle's in them. That's what blue is. It's so blue, it's so-.

'Close your eyes.' He says softly.

How weird, I could've been certain it was only me and the mirror girl in here? Cullen is _so_ dependable. So many colours in the room, I think the blue is my favourite, it's so captivating. Why is everything moving? Why does everything hurt?

'Esme!' Again that could be a worrisome giggle. ' _Close_ your eyes.'

It's only because I trust that sound so much that I decide it's best to listen to it. I shut my eyes and everything seems to change. My colours go and the loudness seems to leave but the room is still spinning and I still hurt. Though I can cope with it now. The movements aren't as vigorous, they're gentler meaning I'm safer.

Until suddenly I'm fucking flying. I'm flying and I'm weightless and I'm moving through the air.

'I can't carry you if you keep wriggling!' The voice complains jovially so I shut my eyes tighter and try to control the movements.

The next thing I notice is something really soft again, softer than the carpet, so soft and I seem to be sitting on it

'Sit up, hon.' I'm annoyed I can't lay down, I'm so tired and this cloud is so welcoming. 'Esme?' The voice sings but I ignore it and push my weight into the covers.

'I know you can hear me, you're giggling.' And something smooth traces my mouth. I giggle once again and when I do, I realise something is on my tongue. Sitting up comes automatically now because I really don't want to lay down and eat, that sounds like a bad choice. But my eyes are still closed.

'Chew, it'll help.'

'What is it?' I reply to the darkness. I think it's a mint or something like that, but it explodes into powder on my taste buds and I can feel that medicinal taste. Like anyone would be, I'm half tempted to dribble it onto myself but that sounds bad, too. There's a chuckle again as a hand softly touches my chin as if to diminish the thought. 'Can I open my eyes?'

'If you want but don't move,' he warns. Once again, I can't help but gasp when my eyelashes are out the way. All the colours and there's that blue. So brightly blue and gorgeous. My favourite blue. I reach out to it but a bigger hand settles my smaller one to the softness where I sit. That mouth is curved again so I go to touch that but my hands are repeatedly placed to my thighs with my favourite laughter sound playing in my ears followed by a testing breath.

'So what are we not going to do next time, Miss Platt?'

'Kiss my flatmate?'

I think he winces but it's so hard to tell with the room going so fast.

'You're _not_ going to drink and medicate.' He corrects.

'Right.' But then something sharp hurts my leg and I hit out at whatever it is that causes the burning. 'Fucking _OW_?!'

'I'm sorry but it needs to be changed.' For someone who's sorry, he doesn't sound it.

'What's wrong with you?! That hurts!' I whine, gesturing to the poor victim that is my chubby limb.

Again there's a soft smile and that happy, silly sound that feels so normal. 'Only for a moment, I swear.'

But the sounds are lost on me when I find another distraction. My fingers find those chaotic waves of blonde hair and I softly lace them through my knuckles. The strands are silky, disarrayed and wavier than they look from far away, and they smell so good. Like a plum musky smell that goes in the black and purple shampoo bottle. Which is weird when you think at how bright those locks are. The perfect sandy yellow.

'OW!'

I can't tell if that was me or not. There was definitely a sharp pain on my side and I thought I felt myself complain but the mouth opposite me is open too and the frown of discomfort is etched on his face.

The bigger hand comes and unlocks my fingertips from where I've woven them into the back of his head.

'How about we both be a little gentler?' He says playfully and he brings my hand from those soft straw coloured locks onto his perfectly symmetrical shoulders.

'Ready?' He asks but I'm too interested in testing the firmness of those gorgeous muscles.

'OW!' I scream when the awful material is shredded from my skin. HOLY FUCKING HELL, HOW COULD ANYTHING HURT SO MUCH?! 'Fuck me, Cullen!' At least I think its Cullen. It's hard to put the colours into shapes right now.

'It wasn't that bad, you big faker. You're so high you wouldn't be able to tell if you're in pain or not.'

I take a ragged breath through my teeth and breathe in. 'You could've warned me though! It's so big!'

He brings the ugly clothed square into a focus of all these colours and debates his answer.

'It's fucking sore!' I whine again, squeezing onto his shoulders without necessarily registering the actions. If he's clever, he will see that I'm abusing my power but they're nice shoulders and I don't know what my fucking name is right now.

'You're fine, I promise,' he replies and apparently is as disinterested as before because he's fiddling about with some green box with a cross on it.

'Why did it have to be _so_ big?' I groan, grinding my back teeth together and breathing through the stinging. He holds up the square and gives me an amused shake of his head.

'It's not _that_ big, Esme.'

'Fuck off-it's huge. Look at it! Fucking hell, you've even taken some of my hair with it!' Man, I'm so close to crying I could hit him.

'You're loving every second of this, you Drama-Queen. Look, it's a perfectly normal size. For _everyday_ use.' Again, he looks to the soiled bandage before wrapping it up in what could be a bag or some paper and throwing it towards one of the seven bins in the corner. My head is continuing to spin but with the added smell of that cream- I feel sick.

'You should've lubricated it with something!' I whimper once again but I can see that smile coming back.

'What with? All these magical colours?'

'Spit would've been fine.' I murmur.

'I wasn't going to spit on it, Esme.' That huge smile comes back but it's more like a smirk, a huge smirk taking over his face again and it's so gorgeous. I want to touch it again, it looks so inviting.

There's something cold on my leg, cold and soothing but also a little painful-. Then the smell-.

'OW!' I punctuate, glaring without demand at his pristine face. Again that beautiful face starts to laugh again despite its look of exhaustion.

'Look, it's done! It's all over, nothing to complain about!'

In a familiar type of movement, he moves himself back and examines his work. It's so normal, so sweet, I can't explain it. But I know that at least one of my body parts feels, and looks, better.

Then two warm hands seem to be stroking my shoulders.

'Why on earth are you crying?' He asks with a smile and using a stray hand, he pushes an unexplainable tear from my cheek with his knuckles. I'm crying? Why am I crying? Is that why my vision is so blurry? I'm so confused.

'I don't know!' I wail and suddenly the warm arm come up to encase my shaking shoulders. He laughs a little and I can feel it's minty warmth against my wet nose as I sob a little harder into his shirt for reasons that make no sense at all.

My head hurts so badly, man a car could hit me right now and I'd feel better..

'Come on, Es. Please don't cry.'

But that only makes my eyes leak more fluid.

'I fucked up.' I sob, muffling the words a little into his chest. I don't know the reasons why but he's happy enough to continue swiping his hand along my back as he patiently lets me cry until my face swells to a repulsive size.

'It's only a bit of mixing substances. I'm sure everyone's done it once. It was just a mistake.'

My crying turns to howling and after a few more minutes of him waiting, I finally catch my breath enough to explain myself.

'I didn't mean to kiss you!'

He stiffens a little but forces himself to relax before pushing me away to arm's length.

'Esme.'

Still, I'm crying.

'Esme?'

More crying, I'm going to drown in a minute.

'Esme, _look_ at me.'

That bright blue explodes into my vision again.

'You're so out of it right now, you _don't_ know what you're saying.'

'-I just want us to be friends again!' I whine, still very confused by the various images infront I'm trying to sort through.

'We _are_ friends. We're never going to stop being friends-'

'But you're pissed off with me!' Again my stupid wet tears keep slipping down my face until the underside of my chin is soaking wet and so is my shirt with it.

'I'm not-.' Even in my intoxicated state I can see him hesitate, his mouth curving into an awkward line. 'Alright, fine, I am a _little_ pissed off but only because you said you felt sorry for me…'

My tears slow and I stop my whimpering.

'What?'

He puts the crunchy ball into my open fist, the one I'd opened on the floor a while ago, and then he spreads it out again till I recognise some of the familiar loops of black. Oh. My handwriting.

'It's a bit insulting. I don't want nor need your sympathy, I'm happy and the only reason-.' He catches himself and breathes slowly through his nose.

'What?' I say again.

'There's no point having this conversation with you at the moment. I could tell you I'm in love with you and you'd still be more interested in the ' _magical colours_ ''.

Guiltily, I refocus my gaze back to his face rather than the wall behind and smile weakly, still unable to tear my eyes from his hair or his expression or his mouth or his shoulders. Only this time I'm not sure why. He's waving his hand in front of my face and it takes for the noise of his frustrated laughter for me to realise.

'Exactly my point.' He sighs sadly, watching my head wobble around on my shoulders a little before forcing another smile into his face. 'Seriously now, you need to sleep.' He helps me to stand, pulls the corner of his duvet back and gently pushes on my shoulders so that I fall to my butt on his perfect mattress with my mouth in a perfect height to kiss his shirted naval.

The problem is that I can't stop giggling, even when he turns the light off and we're left in utter darkness. And then the bed groans and I can feel his weight roll closer to me. And because we're in darkness, the absence of colours gives me an idea. So I kick out my leg and lay it over his.

'Carlisle?'

' _Carlisle_ , huh? How high _are_ you?!'

In terms of an answer, I bring my knee higher up on his thigh till we're almost lined up towards each other but he only sighs dismally again before gently letting my leg down.

'Not high enough apparently.' I complain, snuggling closer. Again he breathes deeply and hides his face in his pillow before groaning loudly. 'Care to share the fumes?'

'Night, Esme.' He replies back.

'How about we reap the benefits of our friendship?' I sing softly, shifting closer, lifting my leg up a little because even though he pushed it away, I'm sure he just smiled at it, too.

'Es-me.' He whines.

'How about-.'

'How many times do I have to remind you that you don't _know_ what you're saying?' He complains, still half laughing but it's starting to sound more cynical.

'Why don't we act on the thrill of the moment-?'

He grasps my hand in between the sheets before I have chance to touch him and with the other, he gently pushes my knee from his hip back to where it should be on my side of the bed. I whine loudly and try to blink back my need to sleep but with this pillow so soft and my head so heavy-.

'Just oral?' I beg.

'Fucking hell!' He sounds angry but then there's a tremendous roar of laughter and I feel him literally shake with utter amusement.

'I don't mind giving!' I attempt to persuade, dragging a fingertip down the middle of his- _urgh_ -abs, but it's almost lost in his explosive laughter.

Almost.

'That's it!' He curses in exasperation and with his lips by my nose and his words and cologne biting my very tongue, he commands in a daring voice ' _Turn around_.' I literally throw my head back to his shoulder in a whimper of pleasure and push our bodies together so that my skin is radiating on the high of electricity between us. Once more, he senses my movements quicker than I do and before I have time to free my bottom half from the restraint of his underwear, he threads his fingers through mine on both hands and then wraps our arms around my stomach-in a hug?

'Er? Cullen?!'

'Goodnight, Esme!'

I want to fight it, I even think I'm about to but his locked arms are so fierce and so warm and his chest is so comforting and his scent so familiar- I'm asleep in seconds.

* * *

The alarm the next morning is the only thing to have disturbed my long and peaceful sleep and though I'm a little out f it soon, I am completely refreshed. Until I wipe the sleep out my eyes. Urrrrm?

I'm in a shirt. Which isn't necessarily abnormal. What's abnormal is that I'm in a blue button down shirt with only one of the buttons intact at my chest. Just. But it gets worse when I shift myself up to the headboard. Holy fuck, I'm not wearing underwear. _ANY_ underwear! Where the fuck is my-. Then I see my bra tossed cross the other side of the room to the wooden door.

My first reaction is to do a once, twice over of my body. But everything feels normal? Sore maybe but certainly not... used? I'm a little light-headed and could probably do with a fruit juice, my wrist feels better, my thigh feels good and my-. What the fuck am I saying? Why am I pretty-much naked in Cullen's bed?!

The shrill alarm goes off again and in robotic movement, my long arm comes up to smash it off so that the beeping turns to a deformed whine. Now I'm sitting up I can take in the mess of the room. Clothes everywhere, paper and tissue, sheets and pillows, various other random elements.

Paper. Hmm. Okay? But the paper is in a trail leading towards the door. I suspiciously look around again but I'm alone. Mostly naked and alone which isn't the greatest way to wake up. But then I was certainly used to myself out the bed is a little tough, especially when my legs turn to string, but I push through. At least to get to bigger pieces of paper at the door.

But they're plain. There's nothing written on them. I don't have time to be messing around in the mysteries, I have lessons and not just lessons but a whole new art piece to create. And the nursery, I'm doing an afternoon shift today and...The stupid coffee shop. I push the thought to the back of my mind and pick up the shredded bits of paper when, on opening the door, I'm confronted with a whole trail more.

Gotta love a mystery.

The grin on my face lights up. Half-dressed and curious, I button the rest of my shirt up and follow the trail downstairs, careful to pick them up as I go until I'm facing the kitchen. Empty. Apart from a note, a bowl and a cup on the table. Clean for once, bright and cold with the windows open but void of hot-as-hell flatmates. Mmm, breakfast, nice. Coffee, too but that's gone a little cold now so I have to microwave it. The note is folded neatly, close to the cup and perfectly crisp. I drag my finger along letter's indent, teasing myself a little until I can't wait anymore and I have to open it.

I can hear the smile in the words with hints of his jovial chuckle too.

 _Enjoy your treasure-_ He writes beautifully, the Y's tails looping to the next letter- _and phone me the moment you read this. I really need to speak with you._ I think about cringing and slamming my head on the table but then those little _Xxx'_ s all in a straight line seem to remedy my discomfort and I can feel myself blush all over again.

I obviously don't phone immediately. That would be too keen, right? I change into my nursery uniform, which is really just an easy red polo-top and jeans, pack my other uniform and try and squeeze all my art stuff and my camera into a crappy shoulder bag before picking up the phone.

It's on the last ring that I hear his voice.

 _'Hello?'_ He's breathless, as usual, and sounds a little croaky.

'You asked me to phone?' I say obviously, my hands fiddling with the dirtied spoon on the table.

' _Esme_?'

Esme, still. I involuntarily sigh.

'Obviously. Who'd your caller ID tell you it was going to be?'

There's no answer for several minutes, just various muffled sounds and beeping and yelling. He's whispering when he picks up again.

' _Sorry, I-_ ' He's interrupted by something again and I have to wait. ' _-Hello? Still there?_ '

'You asked me to phone?' I remind him.

There was something about speaking with him this morning that seemed to just put me at the ultimate state of comfort despite my bitchy sounding tone. Even through his croaky whine, the nervous floating of his voice and my utter confusion, I loved hearing his voice. It was like a reminder that we were once again normally abnormal. Which was weird come to think of it. We were worse than that. We were abnormally normal for us considering we spent last night avoiding each other?

What was it about my apparent nakedness which seemed to let us off the hook once again?

'Y _es-yes I did. I need to talk to you about-_ ' Silence. Then a flurry of loud noises. ' _Urm last Night?_ '

Now I feel shit.

'What about last night?' The strain of panic in my voice is as clear as crystal. But likewise, the stark image of him fiddling with the back of his hair comes into mind and I'm a little comforted.

' _Well... at the very least...your attire?_ '

'Oh. Well, I just assumed it was hot?' Why else would I be naked in his bed? For a casual fuck? Ahahahahaha. I'm fucking crying.

Again there's no answer for several minutes as various other sounds take over his attention.

' _Sorry, sorry. I am here_.'

'I know.' It was a surprise I'd managed to sound so patient. Though I guess I felt that way, completely at ease and warm all over. Abnormally normal.

' _Anyway-what were we saying?...Oh_!' He keeps starting to say words then stopping himself until finally he seems to have given up. His sigh is a heavy and drawn out breather. ' _I'm so sorry, is there any way I can meet you for lunch?'_

Uh-oh.

'No,' I say quickly.

' _No_?' He repeats, obviously confused.

'Not since some psycho blonde took my car, no.'

The warm sound of his chuckle comes through to the receiver and I'm wondering if he's mistaken himself for the psycho blonde. To be fair, he was more of a radiantly infuriating blonde. If anyone was the psycho out of our dynamic it was most certainly me.

' _Okay what if I come pick you up? You're at the nursery, right?_ '

Still amazed me that he knows my schedule better than me.

'If you're that keen then sure. Anyway, last night?' What is with him this morning?

' _Yes but- I ought to explain in person..._ '

This isn't good.

'Whyyy?' I.e. FUUUUUUUUUUUCK

' _Because_?' He murmurs shyly.

'Because why?'

' _Can I please just explain it later- it's crazy around here and I'm already in the doghouse with-_ '

'Chill, Cullen.' It's pathetic how well I play the nonchalant but I'm sure I heard him take another breather. 'When's your lunch?'

He sighs like he always does when he's stressed and tired. ' _One_.'

'Okay, I finish the nursery at 12:50, I'll meet you then.' I wasn't going to mention about the coffee shop just yet. Besides I had lessons first and then the Coffee House and then I really needed to start and finish my submission. 'Do you need me to bring anything?'

His snapping exterior shatters and once again he yawns. ' _10,000 packs of headache pills?_ '

'You're the one working with the drugs.' I remind him and there's a harsh guffaw as a reply. Strange? 'Anything else?' I ask, my smile already taking place.

' _My bed_?'

'Aww, poor baby. Did someone not sleep well?' I tease, pouting a little for no real effect. It wasn't like he could see you, you dumb-ass.

' _Hilarious, Miss Platt, no I did not. I'll explain-_ ' There's talking on the other side of the phone and I can hear him apologising to what sounds like an authority figure. ' _I've really got to go._ '

'Yeah, yeah. See you at Lunch.'

' _Don't be late_!' But I've hung up already, already half panicking over what fucked up trouble I've cursed myself into now.


	17. Reasons why I'm blind to basic responses

**_Thank you for your continuing support and patience. This is basically the majority of the chapter I lost. It's not what it was but it's the happiest I'm ever going to be with it._**

 ** _Still. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts!_**

* * *

The kids at the nursery are nuts and with a mystery behind me, I'm surprised I manage to focus enough on chasing after their painted hands, their leaking noses and sticky fingers. One kid in particular thinks it's really funny to push his tiny hands into my chest, planting green painted handprints on my red polo shirt right where I'm half wishing Cullen would notice me. Eurgh, thanks child. But realistically, I'm not too grumpy. This kids are fun to be with and it's not long before I'm giggling with a group of them.

In fact, after spending most of my morning with my eyes on the clock begging for one o'clock to make an appearance, I'm soon settled enough into the natural rhythm of the busy day. I'm having fun painting various animals. As much as it might damage my evil exterior, I couldn't escape the fact that I love being with children. They're a great source of entertainment, clever in stupid ways and in need of as much affection as anyone present. It's a shame the Twins were the greatest source of malevolence there has ever been because I really love being around the little ones. They gave me purpose. And also managed to make me seem less of a bad person which was always an ego booster.

I'm running late. It's finally one (well, just after). The kids have all been picked up by their parents and the other set of youngsters are being brought in by my boss as I try to hurry my ass up and tidy away the craft pieces.

' _After_ noon, Miss Platt.'

Like always, I jump a little but my shoulders soon slump to their relaxed state and I find myself beaming, purposefully taking my time to turn around. A few strands of my fringe disrupt my way so I fix my presentation and pull away my loosened curls to face him. I don't know what gets the worst hit. My heart or my stomach. It hasn't been long since I'd seen him and yet his beauty still struck me.

'I thought you promised not to be late?' He says playfully, running a tongue along the edges of his teeth.

He's leaning on the door frame, his favourite position, dressed in his doctor's uniform: the long white coat with the green scrubs and holy fuck, I'm seconds from killing over. Once more, he's evaded his neat character with long disarrayed locks still the fresh colour of golden straw but has smehow managed to rake it back in with those perfect teeth and crisply neat uniform. His mouth is parted slightly but a brighter pink as he smirks in a way which is unlike smirking. It's like a genuine smile as if, despite his completely drawn face of utter exhaustion, he was blissfully happy. He is clearly tired though like he could wobble any given moment if he didn't sit down which was enough motivation to get moving.

Even if Mr. Perfect had suddenly taken a walk down some sexy-side street.

'You look like shit.' I greet, trying not to smile too much in case he thinks something is wrong. He doesn't seem to take any ofence to my comment and instead rubs underneath his heavy eyelids.

'As charming as ever. I might say the same to your-...' He nods down to my shirt but doesn't necessarily look. For some reason he's too busy staring at my face.

'Kids. Fiesty buggers.'

He hums a little in amused agreement before catching a glimpse of the afternoon kids and sighing a little, looking sad in ways that I couldn't explain nor understand.

'Are you ready?' He asks, tearing his look away to where I'm still rushing around.

I ask for a minute, finish off my time-sheet and quickly let my boss know I'm finished until my next shift. Then I happily follow that sexypstudent doctor to his sexy as fuck car to which I nearly throw myself on. Sure, a guy having a car was always going to be a little more pleasing than usual (especially while mine was in for 'maintenance') but with a car as beautifully sleek and dark as Cullen's, no other guy had an inch of a chance.

And that's coming from the liberal.

'So why _are_ you in the doghouse?' I ask gently once I've gratefully accustomed myself to the seatbelt and such. The side of his face moves in a grimace and he pretends to focus on the driving for a few seconds before answering.

'For coming in tired…' He confesses quietly.

We're waiting at the traffic lights and I'm very aware he's forcing himself to seem more alert than I bet he actually is... Man, he really didn't sleep well?

'Have you made any mistakes?'

'Not yet.' He looks to me once more and the grimace changes into a smile. It's warm in the car so I shrug out my jacket and check my appearance once more- I should've straightened my hair, this fluff is going crazy, I bet I look like a goon.

'Don't panic Cullen. You've got this.'

He's just coming up to the campus car park and takes a space on the left, close to the entrance of my building so that we're sitting in the shade with the radio on. Which in itself is semi embarrassing because it's playing one of my favourite slow songs; passionate, romantic and yet still vulnerable. He's smiling at something.

'What?'

'Hmm?' He asks, playing the fool.

'What? What are you smiling at?'

He opens his eyes wide and lifts his shoulders up. 'Nothing?' But the higher octave of his voice has already given him away.

'Yes you are! What is it?'

'No, I'm not.' The grin is getting bigger and now he's almost laughing. 'Nothing at all.'

'Cullen.' I murmur pathetically. 'Just tell me.' I try to flutter my eyelashes in an un-Tilly way but the more I do it, the more I seem to forget to be ironical with my actions...I'm fluttering my eyelashes at him...deliberately.

That gorgeous face of his breaaks into his perfect toothed smile nd now he realises he has no choice but to answer me.

'It's nothing. Just that...' He exhales peacefully and watches my expression. 'I think I prefer you calling me Cullen. At least then, I know where I stand.' He teases with a smile.

Those eyes catch my frown but he decides not to relieve my confusion all the while I desperately try and figure out what the heck that's supposed to mean. His hand finds the volume control where it puts the numbers up a touch. With that done, he passes me a shy smile, readjusts the seat and leans far back with his eyes closed.

There seems to be an immovable lump in my throat.

'What does that mean?' I ask dubiously. Do I really want to know what that means? He pouts a little and moves his lower jaw

'Are you asking me to explain yesterday?'

I'd been thinking about it all morning. The mystery of the blue button down, one of his regular workshirts, and how it came to sit on my body. There is something about his expression which suggests that despite his effortless beauty- perhaps I'm better off in the unknown.

'No.' I answer honestly.

His fingertips play with a piece of thread on his blue scrubs, finding an excuse to hide most probably.

'I think I should anyway?'

He opens an eye to judge my reaction again, which is sufficiently blank, and reverts to staring above. I guesture for him to go ahead.

'Maybe it's better if I start from the beginning?' He suggests, pulling himself up to his elbows just like on our cliff. He's looking little nervous now, pinked cheek and shy. 'When you…kissed me-?'

'NOPE!' I half yell. 'No lets not- end of conversation. Moment over-NOPE.'

Now would be a nice moment just to fall through all the cracks in the world and burn to death.

'Es,' he sings playfully, using a tone that pierces me on so many levels. 'Come on, you've got to let me explain…'

'HELL NO-'

'Just please hear me out.' He deliberately pauses to allow me to vent my groans and whines untill I give in. 'Without interrupting?' he adds peacefully. I actively decide not to agree to anything untill I hear the damage. 'I'm going to start by saying that you really don't cope well with embarrassment-' He holds a finger up to my muffled sounds of argument and continues with his narrative using an even and calm tone. 'And that drinking while taking anything is neither clever nor funny nor a joke and if you ever do it again, I think I'll shit myself out of panic-'.

I grimace loudly and try to null myself in the deep alcove of the space between seat and door all the while trying not to suffocate in my embarrassment. Or rather, trying to suffocate in my embarrassment. He rubs pulls his coat collar out the way and rubs his neck.

'Esme, when you kissed me… I'm not trying to blame my inexperience but I just really wasn't expecting it and in my defence I was completely unprepared and I just- panicked?'

I don't know whose pinkier, him or me but then if he grew anymore pink I think he might explode. Me on the other hand. I was at a standstill. Immovable. Maybe even dead.

'Pardon?' I ask mutely.

He blinks twice before gulping and forcing his typical crooked smile to the side of his face.

'Are you saying-'

'Again I'm not trying to make excuses, I know how much you hate that-'

'CARLISLE CULLEN ARE YOU SAYING I WAS YOUR FIRST-'

'Must we be so dramatic?'

'FIRST _KISS_?!'

Just like that, I couldn't tell if I'd risen to heaven or if heaven was crashing around by my knees.

'To put it simply?'

'Are you saying the whole reason you were so repulsed is because of your lack of _experience_?!'

He rolls his eyes for a second before nervously searching my face. I can't begin to explain myself, if my heart could beat any faster, I could die. First kiss?! I couldn't be more relieved, everyones first kiss was pretty shit but your first ever kiss at 25?! And he is such an over thinker, too. It was a relief! It explained his whole reaction... And Yet… his first kiss. I'd stolen that from him. Something he'd never offered… And that made me feel about three inches tall.

Man, when he said he didn't have much experience I assumed the much was at least some. Not even a kiss- How did that even happen with a face like that?! He was the kind of guy who would get robbed of snogs with a face like that.

In other words I was a thief.

Typically, he seems to be fighting the want to both face me straight on and run back to his little bat-cave. I couldn't blame him. As embarrassed as he was, I was certain I felt ten-times worse. Made more certain by his dazzling smile, of course.

'Are you infering that I'm a bad kisser, Miss Platt?'

... I have no idea how the fuck I'm meant to respond to this.

'You can't be bad at something you didn't do.' I try to reassure but the look on his face is a pained one.

'Ouch. Please remember the virgin has feelings.' But he winks to show he's not too badly wounded.

Winks. He closes an eye at me. What the fuck does that mean? Other than if I don't calm the uck down I'm going to spontaneously combust any moment.

'Sorry.'

He bites his lip, still drumming that tune into his thigh as he looks to my face, blankly at first and then forcing a look of suave confidence.

'Besides, what even was your marking criteria?'

…

WHAT?!

'Excuse me?' I ask slowly, just to ensure that he hears my every vowel.

'How do I know you're not marking too harshly?' He says playfully, cocking that arched eyebrow at me.

Those midnight orbs seem to be swimming in something erotically toxic because he has such a playful glint in his eye that if I wasn't hearing what I wanted to hear, it would be a likely chance I'd be riding his gear-stick out of peaked frustration right now.

It wasn't just my downstairs that wanted it. So did my mouth and my hands and every single fibre of my being.

'Are you asking for a resubmission?' I squeak out in a tone that could barely be considered English. Utterly over shocked and almost lying on my death bed, that was me at the moment. What was I saying? Never mind what I was saying- what was I _hearing_?!

That little smirk seems to grow into a wide and friendly grin and with a unsteady breath, he settles himself back to the reclined seat, his eyes resting closed.

'Essentially, yes.' He finishes, acting as if the chewing on his lip was neither a turn on nor a concious act.

'NOW?!' I'm choking on my dreams right now- what the fuck is going on.

'Perhaps not now.' He leans up closer to me, stretches out his hand and gently pushes a chunk of my toffee fringe out the way of my face, placing it by my ear and being careful to let his fingertips linger at my cheeks a little. 'In all honesty, I don't even have the energy to fight a butterfly at the moment.'

As if to prove his point, he has to reract his hand back to cover his mouth as he yawns.

'Is that an excuse to get practicing on your hand?' I tease softly, once more losing all sight of who the fuck I'm talking to. It didnt matter. Whoever it was, there seemed to pull a strong magnetic pull between our small encounter and I couldn't resist but let myself move closer towards him.

'Would you judge me if it was?' He answers with another sloppy grin.

I goofily laugh and lean even closer to his chair, both of us smiling like fools now.

'Carlisle Cullen, I wouldn't judge you if you were the cause for the destruction of the earth.'

As typical for him, he raises that curved blonde eyebrow as if the very thing represents his gorgeously tired face tied in with the Karma Sutra.

'You know, I think I've changed my mind? I actually quite like you calling me Carlisle.'

I have to look away to conceal both my blush and horrendously painful smile but at the heart of it I'm euphoric. I couldn't be any more pleased (or sexually frustrated, or utterly bemused). With a groan, he rubs his tired eyes, yawns and turns the radio down to silence the several more awkward slow songs.

'See, you're embarrassed again.'

'I'm not embarrassed.' I lie pathetically. '...I'm just looking at the time.' It wasn't much of a lie, I couldn't be more than gutted that we only had 45 minutes more of each others company.

'Why? You hungry?'

I shake my head. If I ate anything it was almost a gurantee it would end up down my front due to giddy excitement that I just couldn't bottle.

'No, me either.' He confesses, tiredly. 'I'll let you off today. We'll just have to have a bigger dinner, tonight.'

My eyes catch the time again. Moments left. Moments that I didn't want to spend arguing now I'd realised that maybe he didn't find me as repulsive as I'd mistakenly thought. But deceiving him was a step I knew I was too pathetic to take.

'I've kinda got work.' I say guiltily.

'After classes? How long for?' He looks like he's thinking about something but keeps stopping himself from saying it.

'Start at four finish at nine but I've got to create my submission piece and I was going to do it here…' I point to the large building opposite his windshield. It had the best workspace I'd known, that and it was mainly empty at night which I loved.

'Until when?' He's frowning but I don't think he knows why. I don't either. This isn't good.

'Till it's finished.' I answer obviously.

He grimaces once more and ruffles his blonde locks.

'Es, that's not good, you need sleep. Just do it at home- you know you haven't got a time limit on it.'

That was the most hypocritical statement I'd ever heard from him. Saying _I_ needed sleep when he couldn't keep his eyes open for more than four minutes.

'I know but I want to get it done as soon as possible and…what? Why are you staring?'

He's staring right through me, thinking hard with an expression of hard hitting worry. It's panicking me.

'When you say ' _work'_? You don't mean the bar do you?'

Oh. That grin from earlier has transformed and for some stupid reason, I come to the conclusion that no reply is the best reply.

'Please tell me you're joking. You _are_ joking?'

'I'm sorry?' I say quietly. He scrubs at his eyes painfully.

'Please don't. I really don't trust him and you're clearly not comfortable-'

'Yes but it'll be fine. It's fine, don't worry about it.' Can't we just drop this?

'Esme.' He's thrown his head to the steering wheel. 'What about if he gets…over friendly again?' If he bites his lip any harder, he's going to make himself bleed.

'Don't worry about it, I can fend for myself.' I say haughtily. He silently groans again.

'I don't doubt that but…please? I'm begging you.' He pleads with a deep frown.

How to destroy the ego you've just created.

'The more I work, the quicker I can quit.' I say playfully, nuding his elbow slightly. He sighs painfully and puts his fingers to his mouth to stop himself saying something regretful. Good choice. Though it is fairly obvious he's not exactly pleased right now. More than displeased. More like sickened. Which is concerning. If he was panicked and he didn't even hear the phone call then what the hell was I supposed to be?

I didn't want to know.

'Promise me you'll be careful-'

'I'll be fiiine.' I insist. It's funny how the more I try to convince myself, the worse I sound.

'Esme-'

'I promise you I'll be careful- you know me.'

He frowns a little but lets the comment slide. 'And you'll phone me at the first given sign of trouble?'

'Sure.'

He closes his eyes in dismay.

'No not 'sure', I need a yes. I need a legitimate promise you're going to be safe.'

There's soething about his desperation which is making me think he's not just asking for today. Nevertheless, I hold up two flat palms and smile but the focus of his eyes makes my smile crumble.

'Yes, I'll be safe. Yes I'll phone you if there's trouble and yes to whatever else you're expecting me to do-' I catch his unamused face. 'Sorry.'

'Why do I feel like you're saying yes to shut me up?' He asks tiredly.

'Because you're sleepy?'

He concedes and chuckles slightly, resting his cheek on a closed fist to smile at me. 'Very much so-'

As if on cue, we're both interrupted by a high pitch buzzing. I make a face, he groans even louder and pretends to whimper.

'You'd better answer that.' I warn him. He shakes his head and bites his lip again.

'Don't make me a good person.' He whispers pleadingly.

'I think you'd better answer that, _Doctor_ Cullen.'

He screws his face up before reaching to the side of his waistband and clipping his pager thus showing me a gorgeous sight of his underwear. I'm such a pervert.

'I've got to-'

'I know.'

'I wish I didn't have to.' He murmurs miserably.

'You're such a liar. What on earth would you rather be doing?'

'Sleeping?'

'Go save lives, Carlisle.' I grab my bag and jacket from the footwell and try to get myself together with my hand on the door. He's reluctant to start the engine. . 'Well go then?'

'But I never explained about last night?'

I can't help but roll my eyes as I jump out the car and slam the door. He starts the engine and winds down the window from his side.

'Please be safe.'

'Stop harassing me, you stalker and get lost!'

He doesn't find it as funny as I do though he does smile. The car drives off and I'm left to deal with the fact my enjoyable lunch just got cut short by 15 minutes.

* * *

Alice won't stop texting me through the lecture. I mean, her annoying personality is difficult to deal with on the non-busy days so on the really busy days, it feels like a personal vendetta.

 _Busy_. I text her.

 _Avoiding me._ She replies.

 _I'm in a lecture_. It's painful how crap I am at hiding this stupid phone under the desk.

 _And I'm taking a shit- we're made for multitasking_!

I swear she's trying to get on my nerves today. And that Goddamn lecturer just knows I'm not listening. The one time I actually try to turn up, it's bloody typical for my life to try and get in the way.

 _Bitch. What do you want?!_

 _Meet me after class?_

 _Work._ I reply, trying not to get pissed off.

 _Meet me anyway?_

 _Alice, I'm seeing you tomorrow. Whats the urgency?_

 _I need to discuss my sex life?_

 _Hilarious. I'll phone you later._

 _No. Meet me later._

I'm going to lose my shit, I'm already behind with the reading this week, I do not need anymore distractions.

 _I HAVE WORK._

 _So? I'll meet you for a coffee?_

 _What is with your obsession with me? :P_

Great, now I'm lost with whatever this guy is chattingto us about and have no idea what this rambling professor is arguing?! Thank you to my amazing friends who are just trying to fail me!

 _I miss my bestfriend?_

 _I love you._ I write guiltily _. Please don't make me late.  
_

To be fair, I have to scramble the rest of my life together to try and get the rest of the man's piece down which is difficult enough on it's own without being distracted by Alice and then half distracted by the point that actually...I was in fact mostly naked in Cullen bed.

Hold on- How'd did I even get that shirt on? Wasn't I sleeping?!

The seminar goes a little better. I'm not literally distracted by another presence which in turn means I'm about 300% absent from the discussion. I've got as far as doodling a tall skyscraper on my page but not much else. Which isn't great considering how much this blasted seminar is costing me. It just reinforces one thing:

If I don't hand the most awesome piece of art ever made, I'm officially buggered.

We're dismissed once again by the seminar leader and I have about ten minutes to hurry up and change into my shirt and black trousers when I've suddenly realised, I've left my fucking cardigan at home.

FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK! There's no way I wanna fuel the fire with my bra but I have no time to run back and get my cardigan- I'm not even sure where it is? EUURGH.

It's just typical that Alice is parked in the same spot as Cullen was. Just it's acceptable to complain that her little yellow car is smaller and crappier.

'Well you look happy.' She complains as I climb into the car.

'Yes, hilarious. Get driving before I get fired.'

'No, no. Lets discuss why you're so pissed off?' She says cheerily, smiling in that way that scrunches up her nose and eyes. Admittedly, it did feel nice to see her and even better, steal her posh ass perfume. Ooooh. Very floral

'I'm not pissed off. You know I'd love to chat to you but I really don't have time.'

She sucks the air through her circled mouth and taps the steering wheel with both hands, all the while musing to herself as to why I might be so wound up.

'Why, O why, O why.'

'Alice!' I whine, pointing to her keys. If she doesn't turn the engine back on in a second, I swear I'm going to push her aside and start driving this heap of junk myself.

'Might it be because you haven't seen your best friend in sooooo long?'

'Sure?' I say impatiently, grinding my back teeth together while I try to tie my long waves of knots away from my sweaty face.

'Or is it because you haven't had sex in sooo long?'

Why is it always sex with her?

'Of course it is, Alice. Please. Let's get moving.'

'Ooooh!' She whistles, jumping up in her seat. 'I know, I know, I know! It's because somone didn't remember their coat?'

'What?'

She reaches behind my seat to pull out a ball of black which she chucks at me. I catch the fabric with both hand and stare at it before groaning with relief.

My cardigan and work apron. My ass (or in this case, my tits) are fucking saved.

'I love you so much.'

'Thank fuck for Carlisle, huh? He phoned and said you would need it.'

My hands pause from where I'm now tying the apron strings around my waist. I stop for a few more seconds and try to act nonchalant.

'He did?'

'Huh?'

'Cullen? He phoned you?'

She rolls her brown eyes at me and finally starts the engine. 'Yeah, a while ago. Anyway, you owe me coffee.'

* * *

Considering it's the late afternoon on a Thursday, I'm surprised by how busy it is inside which means it takes me a while to clock in and get things done. My boss hasn't noticed I've started yet. He's in his office with the door shut and bolted which was perfectly fine with me. I am completely content about being forgotten.

'So chat me up?'

'You phoned me Alice?' I remind her with a frown. I'm wiping a few of the empty tables down with a wet cloth as she follows me around, chirping about whatever she's decided to chirp about.

'True. So how's life?'

I sigh impatiently.

'Really, Alice. Really? _How's life_?'

She's following on my tail as I gather several dirty cups away into the dishwasher.

'Alright. Talk to me about Edward.'

Okay, this catches me off guard. I turn to frown at her once more before forcing that eyebrow upwards in a very Cullen-esque move.

Except I didn't look hella fuckable when I did it.

'Edward?!'

'Yes Edward. It's the other flatmate you live with if you hadn't noticed?' She says sarcastically, placing a hand on her hip and acting like we're in a sitcom.

'Ha. Aha. Ahahahahhaha. You're so bloody hilarious! What do you want to know?'

It soon becomes pathetically clear why this is her chosen topic of conversation, especially as I'm clearing up behind the counter and she's leaning on it. As cleverly as she always does, she invades me with questions about what Edward's been up to, has he been any differnt recently, is he more talkative, et cetera.

'Why does it matter, Alice?'

'I'm just making conversation.' She diffuses brilliantly.

She stays for about 3 and a half hours trying to harrass me out of any details which might be on offer which is hard to even suggest when I'm too busy trying to get stuff done all the while trying to keep a lookout for some weirdo boss.

'So you're saying he's-?'

'For fuck sake Alice, what does Bella want to know?!'

Her eyes widen once more and she grins like cheshire cat before bursting into a serious of chiming giggles.

'Who said anything about _Bella_?'

'It's written all on your face- What's up with her?'

'Nothing.'

'Alice.' I stand up to look at her as impressed as I hand fiddles with the coffee cup, sloshing the liquid around before taking a sip.

'She wants to know if Edward is still interested?' She trys to play off her apparent betrayal by fiddling with her hair and looking any way that isn't my unamused expression.

'Obviously?' I tell her, shaking my head.

'Really?!'

It's already super clear what she's going to say before she's already said it. Her mouth opens, she's part smiling and her phone is in her hand.

'She's going to be-'

'Go on then, go run and tell her.'

'No, no. I never meant that!' Her lies are so pathetic it's funny.

'You've stayed long enough anyway, we'll catch up tomorrow.' I check the clock at the end of the room and smile. Majority of the way through this shift and have been lucky enough to avoid the presence of the perv. That was beyond lucky.

She grimaces. 'I- can't.'

Hilarious. 'Alice I don't need a babysitter? I have got work to do, you know?'

'I know!' She insists. 'It's just...well Carlisle asked...'

'Asked what, Alice?!'

She pushes her lips out to the side and plays with her fancy looking dress, pulling at the ends and trying not to look so guilty which is impossible for Alice. Why do I have the worst feeling that she's going to say something I won't like.

'He asked that I stay here till the end of your shift?' She confesses and it's literally like she would've done bettter vomiting words on least then I could put them in order.

'What? Why?'

She shrugs her shoulders, pulling her mouth down to avoid smiling. WHY ARE PEOPLE ALSO BELITTLING MY ANGER?!

'How should I know? He just phoned and asked a favour.'

URGH I DON'T NEED TO BE BABYSAT?!

'Don't look so pissed.' She just to reassure, touching my arm. 'I'm sure it was just-'

'Esme.' Commands a rough voice from behind my head. FUCK. 'We're not paying you to sit and chat, are we? There's dishes in the back that need to be-'

'I've got it.' I murmur quietly, glaring up at Alice. She grimaces once more and steps away from the counter.

'I'll speak to you later, Babe.' She whispers, gradually making her escape, I wave her off and wait till she's finally out the door to turn around.

'I'm really sorry.' I say hurriedly. 'She just needed my-'

His very look silences me. I don't know if it's because I've avoided him in the last few days but he seems taller. Taller, older, gloomier and far more creepy. The lump in my throat seemed to be getting worse.

'You'll just have to make it up to me, won't you Brown-Eyes?'

MY EYES ARE NOT FUCKING BROWN.

'Apparently so.' I say, forcing a smile.


	18. Reasons why work is a pain in the ass

_**Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and support, please keep them coming! I would love to read your opinions on this more serious chapter.**_

 _ **Thanks very much! Enjoy!**_

* * *

I don't know why my boss called me in.

In fact, I do. I just don't want to acknowledge that. It's not busy anymore, like at all, especially with Alice gone. Though because Tilly is working too, she takes my unneeded presence as an excuse to do fuck all. This meaning that while I was expected to be free for the evening, just around as an excuse to touch and watch…I'm not actually available. Like the genius I am, I'm taking over in all her jobs, ignoring it when guess-who finds excuses to ' _accidentally_ ' touch my arms, my shoulders, my hair, of course my ass, and hoping to God the last hour comes quick.

Tilly won't stop talking to me as well which is making it the end of my shift about thirty percent worse. Especially because she's not really talking _to_ me, she's literally speaking at me: spewing all her nasally sentences like I care?

'What does Carlisle drink, Esme? Spirits I hope? I want to get him _nice_ and drunk.'

I don't know whether to roll my eyes or lose my temper. Instead I repeat the same thing I've been saying for the last few minutes, this time without sounding so friendly.

'For the _last_ time, Tilly. He doesn't drink.' And on the rare occasions Edward and I had attempted to spike him, he would just give us a knowing smile and refuse it.

'Well, I'm sure he will with me. It's cause for celebration, isn't it?'

Don't bite the bait, whatever you do, don't bite the bloody bait. But my tongue acts without warning.

'What celebration?' I ask flippantly.

Tilly takes a step back on her dainty feet, placing a perfectly polished hand to her chest and giving a dire look of offence.

'Our first date, of course.'

Of couuuuuurse! I'm smothering all my laughter in my shirt here. Taking a deep breath, I readdress her with a smug look.

'I don't think it'll be much of a date, Tilly? To start with, I'll be there?' And secondly, I haven't even taught him how to snog yet?

She rolls her large eyes at me, somehow giving of a theme of some top class 'Daddy's Girl' who suddenly went haywire.

'Yes but you won't be there for long will you? You'll be leaving?' The tone of her voice is suggesting that she's already tellling me what I should answer. And it's not in my favour.

... Is this a dream? Am I fucking dreaming right now? Who the fuck is this weirdo?

She waits for my response like she's watching paint dry except the paint is expected to be agreeing with her.

'My own home?' I repeat, blinking a few more times.

'But it's not your home is it, it's the boys?'

OH MY FUCKING GOD. This infant is delusional!

'Pretty sure I live there, too?' I reply sarcastically but I doubt she's heard my tone. Jesus, if I bite my tongue anymore, I'm going to turn around and spit on her.

'Perhaps. But that won't be for long?' She says it as though this might be one of those human rights acts I've managed to misread and then adds: 'Oh! I'm such a jealous soul, I could never accept him living with another girl.'

Completely involuntarily, I actually wretch. Like, I am so amazed by this utter bullshit that my body instinctively tells me to gag. This is what's happening, she calls me something as condescending as a girl and my stomach tries to hurl.

'Girl?' I repeat meekly. Girl? Try grown ass fucking woman- _biatch_. I could take this pre-scholar down with one of my monthly's- speaking of I need to see when that's due-

Oh my God! She's giving me that look again!

My hands drop the shit I'm fiddling with in the cupboard and I literally turn from where I'm situated to gawp at her in a state of total mute-iny. (Get it, mute because for some DUMB reason, I'm not saying a fucking word!)

She pushes herself off the counter with a bounce and comes closer till she's almost leering over me. Which isn't hard to do when I'm on the floor, clearing this stupid cupboard once again. Seriously- did no one else clean this shit?

'You _are_ going to give us time alone though, aren't you?'

'...You know what-?'

' _ESME_?'

FUCK MY FUCKING LIFE.

Dejetedly, I pull myself up and grimace to my boss who is giving me such a severe look that part of me wants to vomit again. He exhales through his nostrils and quite literally looks down at no only me, but worse my shirt and apron.

'Do I _have_ to see you in my office?!'

'No, Sir.'

Please no, please no, please no...

'Well I suggest-'

The shop door goes just then and the moment I see that fucking smile I swear to fuck, I nearly pass out. My boss follows my face, Tilly gasps and Cullen pulls himself through the door as if his legs are going to give up on him any second.

Not now, anytime but now.

'In my office.' Seethes my boss, clamping a hand on my sore wrist. 'Soon as your shift ends!'

Carlisle drags himself to the front of the counter, clothes-wise looking as stable as ever but seeming more tired in his expression than I've ever seen him.

'I swear to God, I'm not exaggerating when I say I need like six double expressos asap.' He complains slowly, atempting a loose grin and falling short due to the state of heavy eyes. He looks like he's just been beaten up by exhaustion and exhaustion's buddy Stress.

I look to my boss who grimaces, contemplating his next move before storming back into his office. Tilly has magically changed attitudes and is combing all her loose hair onto the food as she tries to thrust her way to Cullen...Who typically seems to have forgotten who the fuck she is.

'You heard the man, six double expressos and a mint latte.' I say to Dumbo over here. She positively gawks at me.

' _Now_ , Tilly!'

She frowns and gets to it as I grab Cullen by the zip of his jacket and pull him far to the hidden side of the room. I literally had like 40 minutes till the end of my shift?!

'What the hell are you doing here?!' I growl, knotting my hands in my hair as I try not to hyperventaliate. How to get yourself in the biggest mess of the world exhibit A.

'Me?' He questions tiredly. 'Are you genuiely asking or are you looking for an excuse to yell at me?'

URGH! I do not have time for his cheek when my dignity is on the line! 'CARLISLE!'

'Fine,' He says playfully and then with a more reserved tone. 'I got sent home early.'

I try to relax my anger a little by pointing to a seat. He looks at it for a a few seconds before giving in and falling between the cushions, suprised by the comfort it offers him. I'm going to get into so much trouble for this- but I sit opposite him.

'Spill. Now.'

'I told you?' He says, confused.

'Yes but why?' I demand urgently, throwing wary glances to the back of the shop. This was the last thing I needed.

He scratches his forehead and lets himself sink further into his seat. 'Unfit to work.' He quotes with his hands.

WHAT THE FUCK, CULLEN?!

But my whole response instantly softens. He's never been unfit to work, never had a sick day or a bad temper or made a mistake... If he got sent how and told off on the same day things weren't good in the Saint's world.

'Why?' I ask, concerned, my mouth falling open and my brows knotting. He crookedly smiles back in a way that Edward has recently adopted.

'They sent me home to sleep.'

I groan once more, my tone even more sweet no matter how much anger I try to force into it:

'Then what are you doing here?' It's like he could almost here the uncontrolled addition of 'my love' at the end of it, but I hold my lips tighter together as if to convince myself it isn't a possibility.

He's about to reply but Tilly has managed to walk over here on her tiptoes while simultaneously sticking her tissue tits out, which is an achievement considering she struggles to walk and breathe. With a deliberately slutty air, resembling many of the same poses employed in those DVDs I'd given to Carlisle, she places the tray down in front of him, kicking her lower back out into a curve and grins, almost suggesting she's about to sit on his lap but I jump and offer my seat.

'Just stay here and just- just _please_ don't cause any trouble. I finish soon.'

He smiles at me before rubbing both eyes and nodding. 'I'll be right here.'

I'm meant to be staying half an hour but because Cullen's gotten me into trouble, I agree to stay longer to help shut up in hopes that'll get me out of visiting 'the office'.

'No customers after 9:30.' My boss warns with a locked jaw and the very statement is enough to fuck me right over.

* * *

In all honesty I expected Cullen's presence to be far more of a curse having just received my first punishment and so I consciously decide that if I manage to see Tilly worm her way into his good books, I just might lose my shit. Especially when he asked for a resubmission early today. If he was asking me to teach then by God, I was going to teach him. What I wasn't going to do is let him set it into practice before I'd even started.

However, after a courtesy smile and a line of information he, quote: 'regretfully', sends her away back to my end of the shop and literally pulls out a huge medical textbook to study from as I stand barely a foot away, staring.

If he was so tired then what the hell was he doing wasting time studying at my work- though the expressos were certainly kicking in for, and as slumped was his posture, his eyes were reading at a pace that is otherwise considered insane.

Within 10 minutes, not only is Tilly becoming everything I hate, in that she's bent by the till gawping overhim and positively drooling down her shirt, but so have I. So even though I'm not as close as she is to him in literal centimetres, even from my stance by the sink, my eyes greedily read over his torturous expression of tiredness and only one thought clings to mind:

He's cute when he's tired.

'I can't wait to get against that body.' Tilly whispers to me in throwaway comment, sounding particularly like this might have been deliberately spoken to make me jealous.

I pause once again in my act of polishing crockery and force myself to try and eradicate the shit thoughts in my brain. But all I could think of was another woman, someone else in that bed, my bed, his bed- _our_ bed…

My blood is boiling.

'I should tell you, Cullen isn't exactly the _funk_ and _dump_ type?' I say obviously, trying to curb my bitchy tone. She's hopped back onto the counter I've just wiped and is positively pumping herself full of hormones-to which he hasn't noticed. He's studying. I couldn't be prouder.

'That's cool. He's such a sweet guy I think a relationship with him would be quite fun.'

FUN?! _FUN_?!

THIS BITCH WAS INVITED INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE?!

'Hmm.' I growl.

'What about Edward, has he got someone?'

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!

'If you're looking for a threesome. They aren't it. The boys are closer than brothers. They're _family_?' And thinking of them as any different was a sin to my vision. EW!

'Esme! You whore!' And then she bursts into a series of squaks or squeaks before pushing on my arm like we're fucking friends or something? 'I never meant like that!'

'Right?' I say quietly and move on to cleaning the silverware while trying to make sure my flatemate isn't getting eye-fucked without his permission, by this fuck of a fuck-up.

'No, I meant if it didn't work out?'

WHY WOULD IT NOT WORK OUT WITH SOMEONE LIKE _CARLISLE CULLEN_?! He was Mr. Fix-it. He could make anything work.

'Can you do me a favour?' I intervene.

FUCKING DIE

'Can you just run out the back and get the coffee to refill the container?'

'Oh!' She seems to be surprised she works in a coffee shop. 'If I must.'

I force a grin on my face and wait till she's out the room to throw a fork at Cullen. My aim is perfect, it takes him by surprise and he tears his ear phones out to raise an eyebrow at me.

'Urm? Ow?'

'I swear you're going to give me a fucking aneurism.' I seethe, mimicking a gulliotine motion with my thumb and my neck. He grins a little and finshes his latte.

'Because I'm hella sexy?'

Too many coffees for this school boy.

'Because you're too nice, you fucking _moron_!'

He reals a little but mistakenly assumes I'm being overdramatic before grinning, replacing his headphones and blocking me out once more.

But it's half nine, my boss has come out to the front with Tilly chattering in tow about utter nonsense. He glares at me, shoots the glare to the customer across our empty space and suddenly changes actors.

With a long and heavy stride, he walks up to the table, overfriendly and over nice and tells Cullen that he's got to leave because it's closing time.

'Oh really? There's no way I could just wait? I wouldn't be a bother?' He replies charmingly and for a second I feel like he's my school friend, pleading with my guardian to let me out to play.

'Company policy.' Replies my boss, gruffly.

'So weird, you normally don't shut the doors till Ten on a Thursday?'

My boss wasn't expecting to have his authority questioned and instead of glaring at my friend, which he does but on the sly, he turns around to watch my reaction. I simply melt to the floor in destabled panic.

'No point in keeping the doors open for one customer, is there? Please leave?'

'Ouch.' Cullen replies just as stiffly. He takes his time to pack his bag and instead of leaving immediately, comes up to me at the till with a tense smile on his face.

'Take away coffee please?'

I decide looking at my boss will only shove nails into the coffin so immediately act on getting him yet another coffee (which is super extreme considering he's already filled hmself with far too much caffine for the day).

When I think no-ones looking, I used my curved signature to encase the cup with my writing, telling him to go and I'll meet him at home but I'm aware that in my heart of hearts, he'll ignore it.

'$4.70, please.'

'No, no. Give it to him for love to reward a customer's loyalty.' I follow my bosses instructions without turning and do my best to grin at my flatmate.

'Lucky me, eh?'

'I'll see you later.' I try and warn. I.e. please fuck off before I have to pay the consequences. He takes the cup from my hand and winks but for once I don't appreciate it.

'Not if I see you first.' He promises and then turns to slowly walk towards the door, at a mid showdown in a staring contestant with my boss.

'Bye Carlisle!' calls Tilly pathetically and she looks to me like she's projecting all her dirty thoughts onto my clean coffee counter.

'See you tomorrow, Tilly.' He replies and then he's gone, standing outside in the bitter cold while I wish for death.

My boss plays a different game. He rubs a sweaty hand down the front of his jacket before bolting the door like a flatline.

'Hey Tilly, why don't you close up for once? Esme- Office. Now.'

I move silently past her pertulant whining and accept my fate of death through the slow walk to the office.

My feet move automatically to the far corner of the room, where all the posh equipment is and I mentally prepare myself to talk myself out of what might be the worst night of my life.

The door opens and then shuts and with the secondary locks on his door clicking in my fate, I feel my shoulders uncontrollably shiver.

'Stay facing the wall.' He commands. His voice is as raspy as it is on the phone, but somehow, so close to my neck it's far more sinister. 'Reinforcements, huh? Do you no longer trust me, Brown eyes.'

His slimy hand claps to the wall infront, inches from my face and I dangerously let out a breath. He was so close.

'I don't know what you're talking about?' I lie pathetically, over aware of his sweaty presence burning into my skin like liquid nitrogen dwn my collar.

His laugh is a harsh curse in my hair.

'I think you're lying to me?'

For fear of the answer, I keep my mouth shut and continue to glare at the wall, hoping the cement will somehow _cement_ my strength. Or apparent lack thereof.

'Should I tell you my plan?' He whispers menacingly, stepping closer until his entire body shrouds mine. The shaking has taken it up several notches as if I've got Huntington's and despite the amount of sweat pouring out of me, I'm shivering so violently, I keep nearly biting my tongue off.

'See-' He uses his weight to slam me into the wall so that I yelp a little before silencing myself once more. 'I don't appreciate disloyalty Esme. It's a disease.'

Apart from the unstoppable shaking, I don't move.

His mouth is on my neck.

'But for your litte guard dog outside- I would fuck you till you begged to be punished.- You'd like that wouldn't you? _Wouldn't_ you?'

The hand on the wall has come round to lie against my neck, just as a playful warning, thick and meaty like it could crush my throat in seconds.

'Instead, I'm just going to have to suffice myself on other pleasures.'

The claustrophobia of his body pushing against me leaves for just a second and I take the excuse to breathe as quietly as I can, filling my lungs with the pleasure of air. If I was lucky, I might pass out soon- on second thoughts, I cant conceive that being lucky.

'Drop your pants.'

'E-excuse me?' Talking feels like spitting rocks.

'I said-' His teeth are back to my ear. 'Drop your pants. Now!'

Don't do it, don't do it, don't fucking do it.

But again, my numb hands betray me in the worst way and I focus on the puddle of my black trousers on the floor.

'Now your underwear. Hurry up, for fuck sake.'

This one isn't my fault. My nails linger by my waistband and I'm so fucking frightened and so cold, I can't do anything. So he does it for me and tears the fabric down my legs till my bottom half is completely exposed.

I don't dare to breathe.

'I think I'll keep these for later.' He summises with another grin and out the corner of my eye, I watch him first press his nose into the crotch of the fabric and inhale then disgard them in his pocket.

I'd never felt more betrayed, more utterly, unexplainably betrayed by my own fucking body, every inch of it, every mark of flesh sickened me.

'Bend over.'

'No.' I whisper silently, holding the tears as tightly as my face could.

'I said Bend _Over_ -.' His nails rip into the top on my leg, just above the top of my new bandage. Those dirty knives sink into my skin, causing new elements of damage and he pulls till I'm leant against the wall at an angle, weighted only by the tips of my toes.

The shakes are completely taking over my body now, my teeth are biting into my lip so bad that I can taste blood and my eyes are so tightly shut, I'm giving myself a headache.

A sharp blow in the form of a slap collides with my ass cheek and out of mortified surprise I whine out.

'I knew you'd enjoy this, you saucy bitch.'

The hand, as flat and as hard as a wooden paddle collides into my cheek again and this time the sound out of my throat is genuine pain. He does it again and I'm silent, so silent because I think I've swallowed my voice.

The whistle of his hand cutting through the air at speed will frighten me till my death. The raw sting of sore flesh burns but the pain becomes verbal once more. A weak and feeble whimper just tumbles out of my mouth like a lost breath.

Silence.

'Last one.' He promises and that wooden torture collides once more into my ass.

I don't scream. I don't do anything apart from shake from the cold, the Goosebumps mortifying my skin like a thousand tattoos.

There's a foul smell in the air of condensation, sweat and cold-blooded fear. But I wait for as long as possible, though it spreads the burn from my backside to the joints in my knee and back again.

'You'd better clean yourself up.' He says quickly and there's a strange kind of demand in his tone that would suggest shame. I warily look behind to see him glaring at me. 'Well isn't your friend waiting?' He curses, the acid of his tone as abrasive as the original injury.

He didn't-. He _didn_ 't... I thought he was going to...

I don't know whether to faint with gratitude or spew my guts in humilation so, as guessed, I just shiver. He slices at hand at me to hurry up.

From his very posture, it's obvious I shouldn't expect my underwear back so I stretch the trouser material back over my ankles and secure the buttons tightly around my waist though it makes me feel even sicker than I might have felt before.

My back is aching in stupid places but with a slight stifle, I drag myself up into a straight posture.

'Well go then?!' He says, pointing to the door.

Like a broken animal, I walk over to it, undo the several bolts with frail hands and walk to the front counter where with shaking hands, I try to get myself a glass of water.

Carlisle-fuck. Wasn't he meant to be outside?!

After searching to catch my gaze a little, he succeeds but his expression is a pained one. Like he's trying to hold his temper, like he knows.

With as much energy as I can, I try to walk properly and smile at him.

'It's started raining.' Tilly explains as if we're a bunch of 1950s housewives and she was being a kindly neighbour to the fellow man.

He's silent, watching my every move with calculation. I was only in there for ten miinutes, realistically he knows that nothing eccentric could have happened-

And yet his shoulders move in such measured rises that Im feeling a little frightened, he's too... decided

I don't answer. I just try to conceal my shaking enough to hold the glass upright but as soon as I fill it with any kind of cold water, the weight loosens my grip and I drop the glass so that it shatters into a million pieces in the sink.

'What the fuck was that? What did you break?'

'Are you okay?' Carlisle asks, at my side in an instant and checking over my hands for any scraps and marks, though the way he's fingers are hovering about where my pulse is, is freaking me out.

'I'm fine!' I curse, snatching back my hands and glaring as hard as I can at my flatmate. But now I'm shaking again. Shaking, and praying he hasn't noticed.

He leans over to turn the tap off and faces me straight on with a silent expression, completely blank and yet full of questions. His mouth is a hard line. He's waiting for an excuse to cause drama, you can see it.

'What the hell-' He begins.

'For fuck sake, I just got told off! That was all!' As gently as I can muster, I shove him out my way to stomp towards the door. Yet, his long legs aren't far behind.

'Jeeez, it's just a glass, Esme. No need to cry about it?' She says with a laugh, completely mocking my whole fury right now-

'Do me a favour and clean that- I'll see you tomorrow.'

Grabbing my coat and my shoulder bag, I leave, ignoring her face, ignoring his face and start to immediately make my way home in the pouring rain.

'Es. I've got the car?'

'I'd rather walk!' I spit back, letting the weather soak through my clothes and completely drown out my hair. At least now I have an excuse to shiver.

'What happened?' He calls, pulling on my arm to stop me from walking any further.

The rain has picked up now, to the extent that its in my eyes and in my mouth and seeping through every layer of fabric until we were all at the same horrible tempreture.

'Jesus Christ, Esme. Look at you! You're soaked. Let me get the car?'

'No!'

'I can't accept this shit' He says defeatedly and then more angriliy 'I just _can't_! _'_ He turns from me not towards the parking lot but back towards the shop. To the front doors. He doesn't look calm.

'Where are _you_ going?' I yell after him, debating whether to follow him or continue towards home. Something in my gut it's telling me to stop him, though. Stop him, now.

'Taking some initiative!' He replies bitterly and with one hand he pushes up both sleeves to reveal two tightly curled fists bent at his thighs.

'What the fuck are you doing?!' I yell after him, kicking myself for dropping my bag off my shoulder and running to catch him before he does exactly what it looks like he's planning to do.

'Let go of me.' He says stiffly, raising the forearm that I'm clinging to with all my miserable 'strength'.

'What do you think you're going to do?! Run in there and have a bust up?! Who the hell do you think you are?!' I demand in a panic. 'You think you just get to go in there causing a fuss because you feel like it?!'

'Something's happened.' He states knowingly with a forced shake of his head. 'He's fucking done _something_.' The power of his swearing surprises me again but before I get too lost in trying to define who it is looking so miserably at me, I pull his arm back once more in the hope to bring him down a step.

'I told you- he only yelled at me. Just drop it!' I plead. 'Please, just drive us home for fuck sake!'

'Why lie to me?' He asks miserably, raising his shoulders in a shrug.

'What do you think could've happened in _ten minutes_ , Carlisle?! You're so _paranoid_!' Now I'm really shaking. The last thing I needed was to let Cullen be the reason for my financial poverty let alone my career and educational meltdown. And I certainly didn't need it all the while he was wearing he's Doctor's badge. For fuck sake, he was going to get his license to practice revoked.

'Paranoid, huh? Right.' He says dismissively, shaking his head bitterly. 'First of all, look at how pale you are. Just paranoia, right? Fine. But you're shaking.'

'It's raining!' I reply pathetically, wrapping my arms tightly around my torso in attempt to hold myself still.

'It wasn't raining in there. For fuck sake Esme, what about your lip! It's bleeding!'

'Torn skin.' I lie quickly, wiping off the blood with my tongue. That horrible metallic taste flooded in and I scrunch my nose in disgust.

He groans, fisting a tense hand through his hair to push it back. In doing so, it's only allowed more drops of rain to soak his forehead and fall to his lips. 'Fine, paranoid. So paranoid, I won't even mention your pulse!' I fucking knew he was trying to bloody doctor me. 'Sure, I'm paranoid. But _you_ are limping!'

'I'm not!' I cry. 'Stop trying to tell me what I am! I'm _fine_!'

'No, you're not.' He replies knowingly.

'Okay, so I'm not fine. I might be losing my job, of _course_ I'm not fine. Do you really think going in there and firing me quicker is going to help at all?!'

He stops for a second, re-thinking before climbing down the steps to stand in front of me.

'You're losing your job?' He asks skeptically, frowning harder to stop the suggestion of belief taking over. But with my only chance of blissfull igorance, I lie and I lied _hard_.

'I could be-yeah.' If you go storming in there, I will be.

He pauses a little longer, watching me intently. 'So...he really _did_ reprimand you?'

'Yes, of course.' Tha certainly wasn't a mistruth. 'Why would I lie?' I add, guility.

'He _didn't_...touch you?'

I don't have the words this time so instead, I just shake my head.

'And that's why you're mad?'

'I'm not mad, Carlisle, I'm stressed. I'm freaking the fuck out and having you keep me on surveillance, isn't helping!' He looks guility from my face and then to the floor, letting more drops of rain seep down his neck. 'Firstly, it's fucking degrading, secondly, it's weird!'

'I don't have you on surveillance?'

'Yeah? What about Alice and you taking it in turns to baby-sit?'

The tone of our yelling has fallen down to one of undeniable guilt and shame but at least it's easier to look at him now. Even if his sorry expression makes me want to curl up and die. I'm pure scum.

'I'm sorry...I just-' He releases some of his energy into a measured breath, letting the cold puff out a little cloud of air. 'I just don't want you getting hurt,' He confesses quietly. 'Or humiliated...or taking advantage of-'

'You can't wrap me in bubble-wrap?'

He nods slightly, a tilt of his chin.

'You just need to trust that I can fend for myself.' I add, wiping the wet from my cheeks but the rain continues to fall.

He frowns a little, chewing on his tongue. 'Even when you haven't properly for the last three weeks?'

'Stop _parenting_ me!' I reply with a growl.

'Sorry, sorry.' He sighs again and rubs his head as though he's suffering from a headache. 'If anything happened to you, I'd just-' He shakes his head, swallowing the words.

'Can we just go now? I'm cold?' And I give myself the right to shiver accordingly. He looks up smiles sightly before nodding.

'Let me just grab our ride.' And looping in order to pick up my soaked shoulder bag, he disappears into the lot to grab the car.

* * *

Sitting down on those sexy ass leather seats immediately comes with a severe amount of pain and I have to be very gentle in not wating to draw attention to myself.

'Are you okay?' He asks with a frown. I've shut the door now and even though I was in the rain for less than five minutes, I'm soaked through and so cold, my teeth are chattering.

'It's raining.' I reply, shuddering violently. He frowns, leans behind him to throw his coat on my lap and then turn the heaters on in the front with a flick of his fingertips.

'Better?' He asks with a grin. I nod and breathe into my fists to attempt to warm up.

'You've perked up?'

He grins even wider. 'I've had like eight coffees. They're finally hitting my system. So- where are we going?'

'What?'

'Where are we going? Are we going home so that we dry off and eat or do we have to endure your submission piece though it doesn't have a due date?'

He grins super widely again and shrugs his shoulders to some funky song on the radio which is bizarrely unlike him.

'Home. I just want to be at home.' I say softly, raising an eyebrow at one particular move that I know would have had me killing over in laughter on a better day. Despite the rain being kind enough to cleanse my clothes, I need a proper bath. Preferably full of acid and butt-pillows.

'Sure? I was only joking about-?'

'Just drive Carlisle.' I plead quietly, making sure to smile so he doesn't panic.

He salutes playfully, and drives out of his semi parked space to get out on the road. I haven't said much which is dumb because I'm trying to cover up the fact I haven't said much by talking but I just feel so- numb.


	19. Reasons why rainfall is worth it

**_Thanks for all the lovely reviews so far, I will, again, be just as superly grateful if you please, please, please leave me your thoughts and opinions once more. I love hearing them!_**

 ** _Thanks sooo much! Enjoy!_**

* * *

I'm lucky enough that Carlisle doesn't force much conversation out of me through the rest of the car ride, though I'm very aware he's keeping an eye on me. I half expected Edward to be back by home by now so when I enter into an empty house, part of me feels a little gutted. He must be at Emmett's and that just made the rooms colder.

As if to confirm my point, Carlisle closes the door behind him and shrugs the rest of the rain off of his jacket

'So quiet when he's off playing with the boys, huh?'

I nod and force another smile on my mouth but he's already climbing the landing in large lounging steps.

I look once more around the living room. The piano was in the far corner, close to the door but by the window that was technically a floor under mine. To the adjacent wall, the large TV hung above the fireplace, a few feet in front of the rectangle coffee table and closer to the white arm chair. On the left of the arm's wing, sidled against the backdrop of the stairs (which had neatly been carved with shelves to act as a bookshelf) sat the pristine couch, starling white with a few patterned blankets thrown over the side. As I turned around, I took in the oak dining table, our chairs neatly placed under it as it hosted a stack of medical books and notepads, once more surrounded by a little alcove of more bookshelves filled to the brim with material. Then you had the kitchen straight ahead of the front door and to the right, the staircase.

Tilly was only half right. To all extent and purposes, the material, especially in the living room, belong only to the boys with my stuff neatly packed away in drawers and cupboards upstairs. Everything in terms of the entertainment goods were the boy's choices. However, I'd certainly made some additions. All the shelves, the units, the cupboards and glass wardrobes had all been chosen (and built) by myself.

How could it not be my home?

'Here?' Cullen descends the stairs, his scrubs turning a darker blue around the shoulders where the rain has taken surface. He picks apart the coloured towels in his hands, throws one along his shoulder, passes me one and unfolds another across my shoulders.

I shudder, hard before wiping my face dry with the towel.

'Remind me never to do that.'

'Stand in the rain?' He guesses, rubbing the tops of my arms dry with the ends of the material. I shudder again and nearly fall of balance but he steadies me before stepping back to dry himself off.

'Argue with someone in rain. My hair's all knotted.' I swoop the rat's tail that is my hair over my shoulder and squeeze some of the liquid from it. He grimaces, drops the towel from his neck and wraps that one around my shoulders, too.

'What about you?' I ask, confused.

'I'm not still shivering,' he says softly.

'I'm cold.' I explain, letting myself shiver a few more times before squeezing all possible warmth from my, now, three towels.

'Why don't you go have a bath and warm up and I'll make some food?'

'I'm not-' I start to say but a sigh takes over. Food would be good. I needed food if I was going to get work done. And I wanted to get work done. 'That would be nice. Thanks, Carlisle.'

He smiles once again, his usual beam lighting up his face like I was the best thing in the world and steps back to clear a path towards the staircase. My foot reaches the fifth step before I turn round.

'Urm, Carlisle?' I say cautiously. He's just walked into the kitchen but comically pokes his head round the corner, both hands on the door frame.

'Yeah?'

Err.

'Urm. Thanks for… today?'

'Pardon?'

Shit, now he's suspicious.

'No, nothing just-er- thanks for… being worried?'

'I thought it was a pain?' He says smartly, smirking slightly and raising a damp eyebrow.

'It is.' I say quickly. 'But… the intention was sweet, I guess.'

He stops leaning and stands properly so that half his lean body is in view. He's not saying much though it looks like he keeps trying to say things that just won't-

'The quicker you have your bath, the quicker I can have a shower.'

Oh.

Right okay and without a seconds thought, I climb the rest of the staircase.

* * *

The bath was meant to be something of a relaxed idea but after burning my body with the hot water, scraping off every cell of.. _him_ with soap and a loafer and positively scrubbing until I was both achy and sore all over- I was more panicked than I had been before I got in the car.

It is with genuine disgust that I realised my aching chest wasn't handling any of this shit and if I wasn't careful-

'There's a Cup of tea on the landing for you, Es.'

That did it. My chest caved and as ridiculous as it was considering 'nothing' happened, apart from theft of underwear, I continued to cry until I was sure I was going to die from dehydration. I was sat in a bath full of skanky water, tired, bitter and sore, sobbing into two hands while trying to stay as silent as possible.

10 minutes later, still crying and still pathetic, there's another call from closer, perhaps from on the hallway.

'Don't be too long. Dinner's nearly done and I really need to shower before I eat.'

I can't reply because tears have invaded my every word.

'Es?' There's a gentle knock on my door. 'Es, you alright?'

For some stupid reason, I've started to hold my breath in hopes that will stop my wheezing.

'Esme?'

The wait is painful now and I breathe heavily.

'Just coming.' I croak. 'Sorry, I won't be long.'

I let the bath water drain then decide to quickly re-wash my body with the shower, this time allowing to scrub at my hair a few times while trying to detangle it.

When I finally make it downstairs, dressed in jeans and an oversized jumper with my wet hair curled in a bun, I find Carlisle sat at the breakfast bar, stirring with one hand while trying to study from his textbook with the other.

'Bathroom's free.' I say as introduction.

He looks over, surprised to see me and turns down the radio with his left hand.

'Mind taking over, quickly?' He asks, indicating the spoon.

'Course not.'

'Thanks, Love.' And putting his hand to his mouth, he sucks a drop of sauce from his thumb before squeezing my arm gently and moving past me.

…

Wait, was that Hon or Love? Did he call me Love? Is _Love_ a new nickname? Were we doing pet names now? _Love_?

-I'm losing it. Why would it be Love? It was obviously just Hon… And yet 'Hon' was still a blessed presence.

Argh, shit. Dinner.

I take a look into the pot and grimace. It wasn't much, just chilli but I guess it would do. I take a small spoonful with disgust and shudder.

For Chilli, it was fucking vile. So I add a few more bits into from the fridge, peppers, herbs and stuff and continue to stir before adding a saucepan of rice on the back hob. Better. It loked better in colour, too.

I turn the radio back up and switch to music from my phone, going back to the same band that played earlier in the car- Funny how that felt days away rather than hours. It isn't long till my fixed pan is both smelling and looking a lot better. It wasn't crazy spicy but it certainly had flavour and was warm to the tongue. But that's how I'd always made it and I wasn't going to change now.

There's a heavy bounce of footsteps on the landing and before long, Carlisle's back in the doorway.

'How's it looking?' He asks, still squeezing water from the back of his head with a hand towel like he was doing earlier.

'Better. Much better.' I say honestly.

'Your cooking has always been better.' He grins a little before grabbing both a new cup and my old one and placing it to the boiling kettle.'Drink?'

'You're really homing in on that British stereotype now, aren't you Cullen?'

'After too many coffees, yes I certainly am. I was hoping to sleep tonight but now I've killed that chance off by a long shot-'

'You'll be fine.' I interrupt. 'Soon as you eat something, you'll have an energy spurt and then you'll crash.'

'I don't want to crash.' He adds tiredly, putting the cup to his lips and taking-. He's just realised it's empty and dejectedly he places it back to the counter.

'I think you're meant to put something in the cup before you drink it, Sweet.'

'Yeah- yeah.' He says playfully, scratching the front strands of his hair back. 'As I was saying. I don't fancy crashing anywhere if I've got to drive still.'

'Why? You going somewhere?' I ask, confused and stirring the two pans.

'Aren't you?'

I look down to my everyday jeans and jumper then to his jeans and white t-shirt, taking a specialised amount of time to stare at his socked feet.

Lived with the guy all these years and I couldn't think of a time I'd seen him deliberate choose not to wear shoes. He normally walked around the house in slip on trainers, too. Everyday socks was an unusual step.

'Hmm?'

'You? Aren't you going somewhere?'

I smile guiltily. 'I _do_ want to get my submission piece done.'

'See.'

'I never said you had to come with?'

He sits up from leaning against the side and offers his hand for the spoon. I tip a bit of the sauce onto it, blow a few times and offer it up to him but instead of taking it from my grip, he simply leans to take the spoon in his mouth and smiles.

'I've always loved your chilli.'

'You're avoiding the point.' I realise, moving around the island and across the kitchen to gather two bowls but as the taller one, he stretches over me and gathers them down safely, placing them into my hands.

'Alright, as tempting as sleep sounds right now, I know I'm not going to be unconscious for another few hours.'

I put the bowls in the microwave for a minute or so to warm them up and then look at him. He's looking a little bit shy as he stares at the unexplainable amusment of our kitchen tiles.

'Point being?' I push.

' _May_ I come with?'

I raise my eyebrow at him, patiently waiting for the confession to come out. It doesn't. He just avoids looking at me.

'What for? To keep an _eye_ on me?'

He lightly bites his lip before apparently looking at mine and relaxing. I run a tongue back along my lower lip, briefly over the rough line of skin which lead to the bleeding earlier.

'This may come as a surprise to hear it but I actually kinda _like_ hanging out with you?'

I stand still for a few more seconds, waiting.

'That and I've got studying myself to do. It just sounded convenient?'

'Convenient, huh?' I ask, grabbing the crockery from the microwave and spooning a bigger portion of rice into his bowl but he gently cups his right hand over mine to take the spoon from me and adds a little more into my dish.

Had I ever really noticed how warm his hands were? The inside from palm to fingertip was not over-coarse, as you'd expect from someone who was often up doing various DIY jobs with me as well as offering to fix Edward's motor on the bad days. Rather, it was slightly dry probably from the doctor's gloves he wore all day.

'I'm being rude aren't I? Honestly Esme, if you'd rather be alone, I totally understand. I'm really not trying to impose.'

Despite myself, I smile a little.

'You can just tell me to shut it and I'll just drop you off and pick you up, I honestly don't mind.'

'I'm not expecting you to pick me up, Carlisle. I'm planning to be there all night? I'll just walk home?'

Since my car has gone AWOL.

'Walk home?' He repeats painfully. 'You do realise we don't have gun control?'

I don't say anything, just force a taste of dinner into my mouth to avoid responding. I couldn't be arsed to have an argument once more.

'Anyway.' He continues, 'All night? But you need sleep?'

Once more, I return his infamous eyebrow. He stares for a second and then realises. He's doing that parenting thing again and it's creepy.

'What I meant to say was-. There's no deadline, what's the hurry in getting it done right now?'

I finish plating up dinner and push his bowl towards him but he's already grabbing a drink- except he's changed his mind and is going for a cold one from the tap.

'Because I want to apply as soon as possible?'

Because I want to quit my job as soon as possible.

'That makes sense, I guess. Water?'

'Thanks.' I grab the glass from him with one hand and my bowl with the other before heading to sit at the dining table in the living room. He takes the seat closest to me at an angle and pushes his books further to the side.

Typically, he waits till my mouth is full of food to ask any more questions.

'So urm. _Can_ I come still?' He asks nervously, his ears reddening just slightly.

Using my phone, I skip a few of the songs in line and lower the volume a little.

'What about getting some sleep? You know, that thing you were sent home from work to do?' I say playfully, mixing my dinner together before taking another spoonful.

He grimaces but it soon changes into a goofy smile. Alright, enough games now.

'Of course you can come, Carlisle? You know you don't need to ask.'

'I just don't want to bother you.'

'You don't bother me. You know I get creeped out I get by old buildings at night.'

Especially in the Art Building. Countless amounts of times I'd been in there, while it was pitched black outside and pitched black inside, maybe apart from once shade of light, when something odd would flash and I would leap out my skin like it was hell on earth.

'Says the Architect?' He adds with a grin.

'You hate what you love and love what you hate.'

He frowns a bit, but otherwise, stays silent as he hoards dinner into his mouth, every now and then looking up to offer a smile my way or simply watch me as if I held the key to the entertainment channel or something.

Not that kind of entertainment.

If he wanted that kind of entertainment, he had plenty in his room and Tilly was offering her services- and what the fuck am I saying? It's Carlisle, even when he's half dead, he's gorgeous. If he asked I wold offer in heartbeat.

Again perhaps on a day that wasn't today.

He seems to like the band that's playing because every so often, he perks up and asks what the song is called and then proceeds to demand an essay on why I liked it so much.

'I just like it. I don't know why.' I say eventually, pushing my bowl from me in defeat. I hadn't eaten as much as we'd both hoped but then there was no way in hell I was going to force more dinner down me. I was already pushing it by playing with the risk of nausea that was hurting my stomach.

He takes my plate for me, thanks me for dinner (despite the fact he started it) and puts the crockery in the sink as I empty out my wet shoulder bag. Shit, my camera. If I've lost that fucking photo I'll cry.

'What about this one?' He asks, replacing his textbook into a back pack and helping me to collect a few of my bits together like my paintbrushes and stuff.

'It's a different band now.'

'Why do you like this song?'

I brush through my long hair with my fingers, combing out some of the damp curls before giving in and shoving it into a crazy clip towards the top of my head and pulling loose some of the strands. He's staring with fascination.

'I don't know. It's passionate? I've always loved passion. Now, are you coming or are you just going to stand there all evening?'

He smiles, grabs his trainers from behind the sofa and his black zipped hoodie before switching all the lights off and following me out the door while I turn the music off. But the series of music questions continue to fly my way in the car.

'So what about dance music? You like a lot of modern stuff?'

'I like _some_ modern stuff, not all of it.'

'It mostly sounds the same to me.' He complains, putting his elbow up against the window and letting in some air.

'It's because you're an old man at heart. You've only got a love for the violin and piano.'

'I'll have you know I know quite a few of modern songs.'

'Yeah? Name one song that has been released this year!'

He flounders, as expected, as decides to spend the rest of the five minute journey trying to conjure up a title but he doesn't get very far.

He follows after me, locks the car doors and takes the bag from my shoulder to carry as I lead him through the double door entrance and insert a passcode. I place a fingertip to my mouth and let him in.

This was certainly my favourite building on the campus, despite the gothic windows. I love how amazed Carlisle is by the art work as we pass though the hallways. He appreciates every part of it, stopping to take a detailed look every so often as if he were committing each piece, each statue, painting and photograph to memory.

'This way.' I say, pointing ahead.

As expected for 11 O'clock on a Thursday, it's dead and I'm happy to lead him to an open empty workspace. It's basically a studio with tables and computers and various other expensive equipment at the back that I was planning to use.

'Woah.' He mouths, looking up around him.

'Bit different to your operating theatres, huh?'

He grins a little loopily and settles himself to a spare table at the back. For some reason, it makes me laugh, a lot.

I put on the radio as I walk past it, making my way to the computer and plug in my potentially damaged camera. I'm flicking through the current photos on the desktop, surprised by how many there were of our Christmas party last year. Though to be fair they were mainly shots of Emmett and Jasper being really silly and the occasional one of me drunkenly posing with Alice.

As I click through the remaining pieces, I finally fall upon his photograph by the trees. His eyes to the camera seeming a little surprised but smiling. I liked it. Except his hands were blurred by movement and Red-eye and various other things like Sun-glare from the camera which was going to take up so much more of my time to correct.

'What's the matter?' He asks from his chair, apparently reading my groans of frustration.

'No- it's nothing. It's just- Urgh.' I gesture to the monitor before rubbing at my eyes. It was such a beautiful picture too.

'Eurgh.' He complains now standing by my side with a look of disgust written all over his face.

'What?' I ask.

'That?' He says, grimly.

'What?'

'You want to use _that_?' He repeats, clearly unimpressed.

'I did. But it's going to take so long to correct all the errors that I doubt I'll get it submitted in a week's time.'

'It's hideous.'

'Shut up Carlisle, it's perfect.' _Was_ perfect. Why the fuck did I have to have such a shaky hand sometimes?!

He makes a noise of disapproval and pokes out his tongue. 'It's vile, please don't paint that.'

'Urgh, don't say that. It's one of my favourite shots. _Please_ don't make me get rid of it.'

'It's foul.' He says with an honest face and I groan a little more.

'Well unless you're willing to pose for me right here and now, I've got nothing better!'

He tilts his chin towards me and frowns.

'You want me to model for you?' He asks with a whine.

My head explodes on the spot, and my mind immediately comes up with the various ways I could distort his posture to make it even better.

'You'd do that for me?' I ask sweetly, making my eyelashes flutter a little as I smile at him as lovingly as possible.

He brings his head to the desk and rubs at the back of his thick hair 'Fiiine, I'll pose for you.'

I owe this man my life.

Obviously, I get to work as quickly as possible just in case he changes his mind. I shut the door, lower the lighting and pull down the blank canvas from across the room to give me a clear space.

'Where do you need me?' He sighs, though when I look at him properly I see he's trying not to smile.

'Just,' With him so close by all I can smell is that gorgeous cologne of his that is so inticing… 'Just stand in the middle.'

He does as he's told and clasps his hands in front of his groin, watching my reaction. I hesitate, place the larger camera to my eye but stop myself.

'What?' He asks curiously as I pull back to observe.

'Come here.' He leans closer to where I am and accepts the fate of my hand fussing with his hair. 'Okay, now don't look at me- look more….'

He steps away, rolls his shoulders back and angles his chin to the right of me so that I can see the shadow of his unshaven face.

'Try not to look so dreamy, Mister. I'm trying to get a good shot here.'

He rolls his eyes, smiling crookedly.

'Don't smile.'

'I'm not.' He says playfully.

My hand brings the camera up to focus once more but I frown a little.

'Just take the damn picture will you.'

'I can't.' I grin once more. 'You're too tall?'

He groans.

'Maybe if you try sitting? And take off your hoodie.'

He shakes his head warningly and sits upon the floor, wiping his hands on the sides of his legs to dry up the apparent sweat.

'Like so?'

'Jacket.' I remind him. He pulls the zip down and tosses the fabric aside, now showing off the pristine shine of his shirt under the light and even better those arms...

I put soft finger under his hard jaw. 'Towards me.'

He smiles and does as he's told, looking up as if he knows exactly what I'm asking for. He still looks tired but confident, too and certainly in a good mood. I snap it several times.

'You don't seem content?' He murmurs after a while, still trying hard to abide my rules by not smiling.

I obviously have to check my footing and decide to kneel in front his knees but to the right, directing his legs to a particular position and take another close up shot. As much of a difficulty as they'll be to correct and paint, I like the ones where he's smiling. Especially where I've caught him laughing or frowning. But something's still not right.

I can see what I want, I want him to look more animalistic, more predator like but- I can't see how.

'How about snarling?'

'Snarling?' He repeats, pathetically. 'You want me to _snarl_?'

'Show me those teeth.' I say gleamingly, grinning with my full set to show what I mean. My hand encourages him to get on with it so he does it a few times, cackling with laughter when he realises the ridiculousness of it all.

The comedy effect is immeasurable and despite myself I can't help but laugh too but after half-an hour of this modelling thing, it's getting unbearably hot under the lights. We're both shining with a sheen of sweat and he _still_ looks too human. The heat is overpowering and soon I have to strip off my jumper to cool down so that I'm left in just my vest top and jeans. He stares at my jaw, keeping very still which gives me an idea.

'Take off your shirt.'

If my shit-of-a-brain shortcuts once more to the coffee shop, I'm going to scream.

'Pardon?' He guffaws, covering his mouth to hide his shock. Despite taking my jumper off, I'm still as flushed as before.

'Urm, please?'

'Why?' He asks in a way that somehow just certifies I've got my way.

'You work-out, Carlisle. Why be insecure?'

He pouts a little, laughing as his thumb and forefinger grip the bottom of his shirt. He keeps his eyes on mine as he pulls the fabric over his head, so that it ruffles his hair a little, the muscles of his shoulder standing out like the perfect example of a fitness ad you'd ever want to see.

Holy fuck- no stop it. You're not perving, you're working. You're working, get this done, just get this done.

Could it get any more remarkable that body? Those Goddamn gorgeous shoulders and that remarkable torso?

'What next, my pants?'

CLOSE YOUR MOUTH YOU WHORE.

'W-what?' I stutter

'My pants, too?'

My mouth breaks into a smirk, I can't help it and I'm trying not to but holy fuck, what is he saying right now? Never mind saying, fuck me, he was so hot.

'No.' I say grinning. 'No you're fine, just relax.'

'Less human enough for you, Miss Platt?'

I wind the strap of the camera around my wrist and pull myself away to think artistically about my piece. His piece. The piece, fuck. Focus Esme.

'Lay down?'

'You're _so_ pushing your luck right now.' He says with a groan, laying himself down to the cold floor and finding a space of comfort though it's hard.

Urgh, hard. If I thought hard muscles were enough of a turn on what the fuck who I ever do if I saw him-hard.

Argh, working.

'Look up at me.' I instruct nervously.

'But you said-'

I roll my eyes and push my fingertips lightly (and very deliberately) on his marbled chest so that he lies back down, his whole torso on beautiful display while I drool all over it.

He eyes the camera with brightly dark eyes and tries to stop the smile creeping up again. Again, I capture it a few times.

'Okay, put your arm out like you're clawing-'

He already does so, forcing his grip to be tight as he tries not to guffaw out loud.

'Yes good- but keep your face relaxed.' I pull a stool out and bring it to his side to stand on. 'Stay exactly like that!'

'Paint me like one of your French Girls?' He quotes pathetically.

I tilt his chin towards me once again and climb on the stool to do another aerial shot, he's trying not to smile but it's hard when I'm apparently hilarious.

Man, he was gorgeous, so inhumanely beautiful and so perfect and yet still so…humanely and morally _good_. My feet carefully climb up onto the stool. I do a few birds eye shots and they're fantastic, they're so brilliant- but I just want something…more intimate? I think.

'What did you not tell me about yesterday night?' I ask after a while, mainly in an attempt to make this whole scene a little less awkward.

He grimaces, his teeth sinking into the bottom pink lip.

'So what you're asking me to do is pass the embarrassment from me to you?'

'I don't get easily embarrassed.'

'HA!'

'Carlisle, relax.'

The studio stays silent for the moment, but still a little stuffy and the pale colour of his flesh warms a little in colour to reflect it.

'Go on?' I encourage, hiding behind my equipment.

Those eyes look away from me to elsewhere in the studio. 'Can't I explain another time?' He begs meekly, his cheeks lighting up in colour. Not exactly what I needed for my predator piece, but still somewhat endearing.

'See, _I'm_ not the embarrassed one. You are.'

'Yeah, easy for you to say now. You know how difficult it was to persuade you to put on at least _one_ item of clothing?!'

I gasp out-loud and hit him very lightly.

'Oh that so did not happen, you Liar!' I say with a testing grin. Is it hot in here? I think it's still really hot in here. I think I need water.

'That's not even the _least_ of it.' He chuckles a little, his chest rising evenly but his cheeks are as flushed as they would be in a heat wave.

'I think you're completely exaggerating.' I stage playfully. 'I've never had such a great night's sleep.'

He rolls his eyes and fights his natural urge to smile.

'My foot is right by your stool, Miss Platt. I wouldn't assume the higher ground, here.'

'Is a threat, _Mr_. Cullen?'

There is something about having the excuse to stare at his half naked body which inflamed some sort of dirty desire deep in my gut and without meaning to, I found myself eyeing him like a dessert piece.

'Playing with fire.' He warns with a grin. 'Playing with very hot fire.'

Urgh! You're telling me.

'That's where you're wrong. The fire would be a lot hotter if it wasn't sleeping on the job.'

With the flat of his shoe he wobbles the leg of my stool so that I nearly lose my footing.

'CULLEN!' I warn, showing the camera in my hand.

'Hm. Cullen or Carlisle, huh?'

Playfully, he moves the stool again so that I wobble.

'CARLISLE.' I squeal, squinting my eyes in warning as I fight to regain my balance. Sooo not funny.

'See? Best of both worlds. So what were you saying about that fire?' He's caught his tongue in his teeth in one of those smiles that makes me want to throw myself at him.

'Not funny. Very expensive amount of kit that you're teasing, right here.'

He grins, making that humming sound in his chest as he uses is shoe to play with my source of safety 'Are you referring to yourself or your model?'

'Ha!' I mimick.

He smiles widely, grinning with his perfect teeth and pulls the stool inwards with his foot. As expected, I squawk and come crashing down except I'm not crashing because he's leant up and caught me at the perfect time and-

The flat of my hands are on his bare chest. URGHHHHH. Let me die now in blissful happiness.

'You nearly broke my camera.' I complain breathily.

'It was perfectly safe. I promise.'

My hands. They're stretched over those flawless pectorals so that I can feel his heart beat heavily beneath my right hand and it's so hot. He keeps an eye on my face so that all I can see in his eyes is exhausted amusement.

'I think you're saying the things I want to hear.' I say, feeling the blood in my veins rush to the surface of my skin. He leans closer, his lips within millimetres of my lower chin his cool breath brushing softly below my neck.

'Might I be so bold as to say, you're mistaken?' He says with a side smile. He raises a hand up to move an escaped piece of my hair but instead changes his mind and removes the clip so my waterfall of mass waves fall around my neck and shoulders. He sighs, twirling a particularly long stand between his fingers before reaching up to place the same hand against my face. I lean backwards out his reach and stretch my left leg over his waist. To _straddle_ him.

My knees are hurting a little as I lean up into them, so that his chin is now at my chest, grabbing the camera once again. With an essence of pride he watches my every move, letting me push gently on those beautiful shoulders till he's against the floor again.

That smirk makes it. I've got it, I've actually managed to fucking get it-

The door rattles and because we're in such an intimate posture, I completely throw myself to him as if I'm trying to cover up…. Even though I'm completely dressed?

The sound of his laughter acts as a relief and with a wry smile on my mouth, I climb up out of his lap to go complain.


	20. Reasons why not to piss off a Saint

_**Lots of fun writing this one. Things are certainly on the build! I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for your lovely comments and don't worry, I haven't forgotten anything ;)  
**_

* * *

My hammering heart seems to be trying to burst out of my chest. Trying not to look so flushed in the face is difficult however and with his smile making my skin prickle in delight, I try and add some attitude back into both my walk and voice.

'Yo-working in here!' Disrupting an artist at work is more than just a crime right now. It's a travesty.

With a bit of a shaky hand, I wrench the door open to reveal a group of semi-drunk football-esque students who bustle in just as Carlisle's pulled his shirt down over his back. At this point, I have to deliberately look away from him to hold my nerve.

The leader of the pack, a hench brunette guy with the arms the same circumference as my head, throws his arm around his taller girl and instantly starts grilling me out. To the point where I'm angry confused. And now I'm mad for two reasons.

1\. You interrupted the artist.

2\. You're still interrupting the artist.

'We've had this place booked since eleven. You're not meant to be in here.' He says smartly, coming up to stand over me as the rest of his buddies file in through the door like a swarm. A drunken swarm who have somehow managed to reinstall a dormant headache.

'You couldn't have considering we've been here?' I retort . 'Besides, _free_ workspace, _free_ opportunity.' I fold my arms across my chest but a few of the guys behind start sniggering to each other, making fun of the fact that I've just made my tits bunch up a little. So I unfold my arms and quickly pull on the jumper that is being pushed into my hands.

But this only makes the group laugh more and now my hammering heart is hammering for a different reason.

'Well I suggest you and your _boyfriend_ leave before we get campus security around to kick you out the _polite_ way.' The guy stands up taller as if trying to push his height through the ceiling while his pathetic giggly girlfriend turns her glare towards me.

Freshers? A group of FUCKING _freshers_ are kicking me out of my own workspace?!

'And if I refuse?' I demand, ignoring the fact that there's a lot of them waiting to lunge out at me. Why did a bunch of Beach-Butt Suckers need the fucking art studio?!

And worse- why was I being such a wimp about it? I could give as good as I got. I don't let people walk over me… that's the rule. But I could feel every part of me back away the more I tried to stand straighter.

'We'll just have to kick you out ourselves?' Says the leader, laughing jovially with his buddies as they high five each other.

There's a soft touch of fingertips on my hand. It's the first time I notice the safe presence behind me. My shitty balance wavers a little, as I almost fall back into a retreat. Which isn't good.

'Excuse me?!' Thank fuck my voice is sturdier than my bravery.

'Es,' Carlisle says quietly, coming closer to me with not only his bag on his back, but mine as well. I'm still holding the camera, trying to stop the threat of shuddering shoulders with gritted teeth. 'Come on, there'll be lots of places free elsewhere-.'

'Yeah baby,' jeers one of the cockier, short guys, flexing his arms like a threat. 'Better listen to your _boo_ and get a move on.'

Shit blows up.

'Who the hell do you think you are?' I fire back, astoundingly aware how the group of them out-number both me and the pearly Saint who was never going to get involved despite his well-acted piece earlier. Easy thirteen-to-one.

'You'd better listen to them, Babe. _Get_ a move on.' Adds the girl, pouting in a way that is so like Tilly-.

I have had enough of patronising assholes.

'I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING _BABE_?!'

'Es.' Carlisle pleads from behind, tugging on my hand. _'Please_ , just leave it.' My hand slaps his away for the second time today, echoing a horrible sound in the large room.

The majority of the lads start to whistle and chant with each other, all pushing to get to the front of this apparent crowd.

'Oooooh, _Feisty's_ got a temper!' And the bunch of them seem to get rowdier.

Carlisle looks at me gently and then towards the door. He's right. Moving in front, he creates a gap for us to walk through, leading the way with me very close to his back and his hand hovering below mine.

'Aww, _Feisty_ doesn't want to play anymore?' Taunts another childish twit, pretty much blowing his bubblegum cheeks at me as he winks. 'Come on Doll. Give us a bite?'

'Grow up!' I snap, trying desperately to leave the room but they're proving to make this difficult. There's just so many of them and they're everywhere like an airborne disease. I'm not even sure where the hell the door is?

'Yeah! Show us your temper, _Feisty_.'

'Ignore them, Esme.' Carlisle encourages from behind, reaching for my hand to tug me out the room with him. I grip it tightly for sake of calm.

Which is perfectly fine until one of the leery drunks takes it one step too far. Just like earlier, there's a sharp sound that cuts through the air and down slaps a hand, right across my sore ass cheeks sounding out like alarm bells.

If there's one thing I did not need right now, it was the reminder of that.

The involuntary cry of pain has left my mouth before I have time to halt it. But because it's the most humiliating day of my life, the whole group of them scream with laughter and copy and mimic the sound until I'm red with tears of fury. Cullen stops dead in is tracks and turns around to face me straight on, scarily still.

'Are you okay?' He asks softly, his blue eyes taking in every part of my expression. My shoulders are moving without my control and if I'm not careful, he's going to notice.

'I'm fine, just get moving.' I mouth sourly, frowning to hide the torturous sting of my backside once more.

The group is still laughing behind us. He's staring.

'Move, Carlisle.'

And they mimic that, too.

He barely touches me as he passes and spots the dickhead who slapped my rear end. He's not hard to miss. He's waving his wrist about, bragging with rambunctious laughter as he proudly shows off his achievements to his friends.

It happens so quickly, I'm almost too surprised to notice let alone to shout out.

Using only his forearm, Carlisle pushes the guy up to the nearest wall, keeping the guy locked so he can't move without restricting the necessary flow of air. Though even from here I could see the twat on his tiptoes. I'm briefly grateful I can't see Carlisle's face, I'm shaking enough as it is.

'Keep your hands _off_ her.' He warns calmly, ignoring the yells and shoving of the group who are tearing at his back as he scares the drunkard to near death.

'Carlisle! Stop!' I beg, pulling on his arm. But once more, he proves that his strength is far above my own and doesn't let me close enough to risk more harm. The group hounds in on him but he hasn't noticed, they're like a pack of wolves attacking a shock-proof glass.

'Apologise to the lady.' He says stiffly.

A few more laughs and jeers but Carlisle pushes his forearm tighter against the kid's neck, not enough to cause damage, but enough to frighten.

'Carlisle, _please_!' And once more, I'm shuddering violently.

' _Apologise_.' He repeats sinisterly, glaring into the kid's skull.

I'm clawing onto his shoulder now, trying to pull him back. 'Drop him, _please_.'

The larger group of lads are trying to grasp at him but with me in the way and Carlisle so furiously threatening the other kid, no one is ready to move just yet. My previous flushed skin of nervous excitement had taken a darker route with a paler colour: I'm now flushed with a mix of fear and fury. Not for me, as it should've been. Not even because the safest guy I knew was hurting someone. Rather, because I was desperately frightened of what could happen to him. This was a big group.

'I'm sorry.' The lad squeaks out. 'Shit, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean it.'

'It was just a bit of harmless fun!' Yells another guy.

Cullen drops the kid so that he falls in an awkward heap to the floor and scrambles to find his balance. He looks at me once and then gathers our stuff to head towards the door, pulling me with him and keeping me encased in safety with the simplicity of his posture.

'What the fuck is your problem, Man?! We were just fooling!' Shouts the ring leader pushing onto Cullen's shoulders so that he ducks a little.

'Hey, leave him alone!' I yell, standing in between them, my heart beating like crazy.

' _Fiesty's_ back again!' Cheers another ignorant lad. 'Come on Babe, what are you going to do-.'

But Carlisle gently pushes me towards the door before taking a fistful of the shirt on the ringleader's chest and shoving him so he goes flying backwards into a stool and falls on his back.

The girlfriend is yelling now but Carlisle's already dragging me away till we're out into the corridor and leaving through the doors.

The hit of the wind strikes me as harshly as the rain did a few hours ago and out of bitter humiliation, fresh tears bubble over and leak down my cheeks. For a second, it looks like we're going to make a run for it and jump out into the car park but instead he stops and turns around to face me, his whole posture slackened into exhaustion.

'Are you okay?' He whispers, putting his hands on both my shoulders to calm the shuddering but even when he hangs his jacket on me, there's an unnerving silence. I can't trust my voice enough to say anything so he simply smiles tightly. 'Come on,' Carlisle insists, taking hold of my hand and pulling gently till we're stood outside his car doors. He unlocks it with a nervous sigh and watches me get in before settling in himself.

'You won't be offended if we just go home will you?'

I shake my head, not trusting my words to uphold any honour when my head is bent so low and my eyes are leaking.

'Esme?'

I don't know what's worse, how humiliated I feel, how frightened I am or how much pain I am in yet again. My ass is on fire.

'Aww, Hon. I'll always keep you safe, I promise.'

But it's ridiculous now because on the sound of 'Hon', the tears release and I'm crying into both hands again, trying to hide myself while consciously getting louder and louder. He continues to rub reassuring circles into my back acting like all of this is completely normal.

When I said I didn't cry, I meant like ever. What the fuck was happening? And why the heck wouldn't it stop?!

'What about you, huh?! You're meant to be a fucking _Doctor_ , Carlisle! What the fuck are you playing at?!' I croak through floods of tears.

He doesn't say anything, just accepts my anger without comment. All the while trying to soothe me and make me feel better because he's that good of a person. And because I'm so pathetic, I literally fall into the cave of his arms and cry for twenty solid minutes.

'I'm just so sick of this fucking body.' I murmur when my throat has calmed enough to let me not suffocate. But now my face and my chest are in as much pain as my ass. And my pride. 'I would be so much safer if I was 12 year old boy.' I snivel, swotting at my eyes and nose with the ends of my sleeves.

With little movement, he pulls the curtain of my hair away from my face to look at me properly, his mouth curved into an encouraging smile.

'Hey, I think you're beautiful.' He says softly, catching and wiping away a few more tears with the side of his finger. 'And you'd still be beautiful as a 12 year old b-.'

He stops himself and cringes visibly, his eyes closing for a millisecond. 'That didn't come out right...'

'Please just drive us home.' I beg, my smile as crumbly as his posture. But before doing so, he sweeps me up into a one armed hug, squeezing my ribcage slightly and resting his chin on my shoulder. The complete eradiation of misery takes place under his arms and with even breaths, I let myself restore to safety again.

* * *

I'm expecting Edward when we get back and the fact he's still not home makes me want to cry more for reasons that make no fucking sense in the world.

Cullen fixes a hot drink from the kitchen and then seats himself on the sofa behind me, leaning forward to watch me. I've pulled out the laptop and have started printing the last photo off my camera ready to map out on a bigger scale in silence. In all honesty, I've been far too lucky. The photo is beautiful, everything about it is perfect and I could be prouder.

'I'm sorry for getting you in trouble.' I whisper eventually, taking the drink from his hands after several more minutes of silence.

'If we can't find trouble, trouble can surely find us, eh?'

I smile lousily, the muscles in my mouth unable to hold the weight of a smile and start to draw out my piece. My hand keeps swooping slightly and I'm well aware my eyes keep closing shut.

'Must you really do that, tonight?' He asks tiredly, his words wrapping me in another layer of warmth as they travel down my neck. He puts a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes. 'You're falling asleep, Hon.'

There it is, that beautiful word. My heart is going to burst.

'I just want to get this done!' I yawn, rubbing at my now my sore face. But I didn't really have room to complain. Not when it felt like I'm sat on a gas stove, burning rings of fire scolding each cheek.

'Take the night off. You've had a day and a half.' He says softly, his mouth almost unable to form the words.

'You can talk.' I reply but when I turn to sneer at him I find his head hanging over the end of the sofa, his eyes closed and his chest rising. Well, that didn't take long?

It's late in the evening, he hasn't slept well for several days and I have every responsibility to help him into bed to save that poor spine of his but I don't.

Instead, I turn off the light and put the TV on a low volume to give me an excuse of something to look at. My hand closes the lid of the laptop, I finish my drink and then in my snivelling state, I help Carlisle to lay down properly on the sofa before curling into his side and pulling the throw over the two of us. It helps and before long, the security of his body has me relaxed in seconds.

* * *

When I stir a little a few hours later, there's a chill in the air. It's biting at my arms, my neck, my face and then something I'm lying against shudders and so do I.

'Not disturbing, I hope?' Edward says with a grin, close against my face as he kneels, his green eyes glittering. Hold on Edward's home?

Before even registering why, I gasp out loud and drag him into a bone-breaking hug, clenching onto him as though he were to disappear. Which is additionally worse. It meant one of two things. Either A: I had somehow managed to find myself high once again, (which isn't inconceivable when you think to how quickly one hot drink managed to knock me out) or B: I actually am insane.

'Where the fuck have you been?!' I groan, wiping away an escaped tear of worry before he gets suspicious. He frowns at me.

'Out, why?' He says with a grin, a thick eyebrow cocked at which seemed to confirm both my ideas at once.

'Dammit, Edward. Do you know how _worried_ I was?!'

'Worried?' He asks. 'Worried why? What's happened?'

I forget how easy it is to alarm Edward once I'm alarmed.

'No, no, I'm sorry. I was just over-reacting.' I say quickly.

Amazed, he reals back a little and simply blinks.

'What?' I ask nervously.

'You? _Over-reacting_?' He laughs when I go to push him aside and dodges it well. 'Go on then, what about?'

I grimace aloud.

'No, it's pathetic. Just forget I said anything.' I don't even want to think about how ridiculous I am. I'm embarrassed enough as it is.

'Oh Come on, Esme? You can't keep your mouth shut forever.'

How do these guys know me so well? It's still cold in this living room so I pull the throw over my shoulders a little more, deliberately trying to ignore the face of pure beauty that lays behind.

'I just…caused issues about something... and thought they might come after you…' I really am paranoid. What the fuck did Cullen slip in my drink?

 _'They_?' He repeats, laughing. 'Who?'

'Never mind. I was just-I was being stupid.' I rub at my eyes a little more before doing quick once over of him. Not a scratch on him and positively giddy. He's totally fine. 'Are you definitely okay, though?'

I unconciously yawn again and go to swing my legs out when I'm unconsciously aware of something… Underneath the blanket, my feet are entwined with another set of feet and with that in mind, my eyes widen and I try not to blush. Or to think. Or to look pathetic.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm cool. Thought I'd better wake you… _both_. Wouldn't want you guys getting back ache now, would we?

He's deliberately looking behind my head.

'In my defence,' I start dejectedly, already knowing I'm a total idiot for bringing it up. 'It's been a really shit day and I was crying…'

He grins widely, holding in that stupid laugh of his. 'I don't _doubt_ you were.'

Why be an asshole right now?

'Stop it, really. I don't have the energy.' I beg weakly, hiding now in both my hair and my jumper and everything else that'll shroud me from an explanation.

'Neither does he.'

'Edward!' I groan, quietly.

He grins once more and helps me up which in the process wakes up Carlisle. He stretches out, curling his spine and his toes before rubbing at his tired face and pushing the same hand into his thick hair so that it springs back.

I'm being stared at. Not by the boys, that would be weird, but by the other lady in the room.

'Oh. Hi Bella?' Need to sound more enthusiastic… Also need to not act so surprised to see her. Alice always acted fast. Should've predicted it.

'Hey.' She says shyly. 'Sorry for waking you two. Edward said it was best but I tried to dissuade him.'

I smile awkwardly and stand up, trying to fuss with my waves instead of looking at her. She's doing the exact same.

'Morning Sgt. Loser.' Edward greets, leaning over to playfully punch Carlisle's face which means putting his knuckles to the poor man's cheek.

'Kid, eurrrgh,' He pushes Edward away and squints his eyes a little from the light. 'What time is it?'

'One.' Him and Bella say simultaneously.

'Oh. Hi Bella.'

'Morning, Carlisle. How are you feeling?'

He scrubs at his eyes once more before pointing upstairs and rolling off the sofa. 'Bed. Going to bed, now. Goodnight.' But Edward stops him and raises his arms up in mock offence.

'Carlisle! _Dude_ , why are you not as pleased over my life as, Esme?'

'Edward.' I whine. 'Please shut the fuck up.'

'What are you even on about, Edward?' He mumbles, tiredly.

He grins a little sloppily and bounds into offensive mimicry. ' _O Edward_! I thought you'd _died_! Where have you been?! I was so busy crying, I didn't even think to phone!'

'Edward,' I hiss. 'Shut-up.'

'Whaaaa?' Carlisle groans, yawning once more.

'Our _poor Edward_ \- Gone forever.' He continues to play. This would be beyond hilarious if I hadn't been genuinely worried. For fuck sake, this is what happens when I'm nice. Although why I even wanted to be nice, or worried or concerned was another question.

'I swear to God-I _will_ hit you.'

Bella pulls on his arm with a smile. 'Come on, Edward. Leave them alone. They deserve a good night's rest together.'

I look behind to Carlisle who is looking just as confused and just as embarrassed- and then I see Edward and he's fucking sniggering...

'What did you say?'

The release of his ferocious laughter hurts my ears.

'What?' Bella asks confused, she staring panicked at the three of us. Or rather the two that does not include her fucking muse. This has got to be a joke?!

'EDWARD, WHAT THE _FUCK_ DID YOU SAY?!'

But he's crying out with laughter, ignoring my very warnings, positively laughing _at_ me-.

' _I_ said nothing- What Bella here implied-'

'I'M GOING TO WRING YOUR FUCKING NECK!'

'Es,' Carlisle whines. 'Don't rise to the bait.'

But Edward has already taken off running and I'm hot on his heels, hands poised ready to kill this bugger for being the arse who thinks it's funny to make my evening ten-times bloody worse JUST FOR A SHITTY LAUGH.

'Its fine, _Es_.' He says laughing, mocking the same endearing tone of our landlord as though it is the funniest thing in the world. That makes me lose it. I lunge at him so he runs off again until we're at an impasse. He's on the opposite side of the breakfast table in the kitchen, hands up in a pretend surrender. 'I really wouldn't feel self-conscious, _Hon_. At least Tilly will take your place tomorrow?'

I throw a cup at his fucking copper hair and lose it when catches it and half skips out the kitchen.

'I swear to God you spoilt sack of shit-'

But as I come storming out of the kitchen, Carlisle catches me perfectly by the waist to stop me attacking his Kid brother. And if I wasn't so focused on getting my revenge, I really would be appreciating every second of this restraint right now. Well, to be honest, I'm loving it even as I fight it.

'Can we please just go to bed?' He pleads.

'HA!'

'You know I meant all of us, Edward!' He fires back. 'I don't fancy my house getting wrecked because of you two!'

'Thanks, but I'm not really into that?' He says in a pout, winking at Bella because he's clearly been spending far too much time with Emmett for God's Sake.

'A cider doesn't make you King fucking Kong, Edward! Just go to bed!' I add, annoyed. Carlisle has to pretend to look in the kitchen to have a second's control of halting his smirk and then he turns back to the opposition.

Fucking Alice making this dipshit all happy for stupid bloody reasons.

'Yes, _Mom_!' He salutes with a grin. 'Should it be expected that I come running into the both of you for a bedtime story?'

' _EURGH_!' I scream, reaching out to grab him once more but I seriously underestimate the cage right here who is making no effort to move anything but his bloody smart-arse mouth!

'Right, I'm going to bed- Goodnight, Kid! Sorry Bella.' Just like that, Carlisle loosens his belt like arm and drags himself to bed. Looking once at me to raise an eyebrow, he continues his slouching walk and ignores his smile.

'Go on, then.'

'EDWARD, I SWEAR TO GOD!' But I do follow him up the stairs. 'Good _night_ Bella!'

'Goodnight Esme, sleep well!' _Blah, blah, bloody, blah._ Go get laid you pathetic hormone filled rabbit infusers.

But once I get up the stairs, I find Carlisle is waiting for me with an expression of pure hell.

'Please tell me you have a huge pack of pills in your hands?'

'There should be some in the bathroom?' I reassure softly, my fury at Edward seeping away the more I look at his gorgeously pained face. 'Would you like me to check?'

'I was actually going to ask if you'd get my pager for me? It's downstairs on the side…'

Bastard. But his eyes are so blue and his body is so hot and I just want him not to be in any discomfort-.

'Sure.' I reply willingly.

'I owe you.' He says softly, rubbing his head as though it weighs a tonne.

I glare at Edward the whole time I collect the pager, daring him to say one word ,to which he doesn't, and knock gently on Carlisle's door to give it to him. For some bizarre reason he's sat on the floor in his white t-shirt and jeans, his back against his bed as he takes the pills in his hand.

'You alright?'

'Headache from hell.' He confesses, combing through his blonde hair to mess it all up once again.

'It's because you haven't slept. Go on, get into bed.' I pull back his side of the duvet for him and help pull him up so that he falls to the pillow face on with a groan. 'Maybe not so hard, eh?' But I ignore the fact he's still dressed and drag the rest of the duvet over his back.

'Stay tonight?' He asks softly, still facing the pillow.

At this precise second, I forget how much searing pain is impaling my sore ass and think only on the fact that if I don't breathe in a second, I'm going to faint. I'd spent nearly every night this week with him. That wasn't weird. What was weird is that all those times I'd had an excuse- now, I had an invite.

'M-me?' I stammer out.

'No, that random guy behind you?' He mumbles, sarcastically. 'Yes, of course _you_. It's cold in here and you make the bed warmer.'

How skill full of me...?

'I'm not going to make much of a positive difference. Look at your face, you're exhausted.' And really cute...He's so beautiful with his crazy hair and his tight t-shirt and his jeans, eurrrgh why does he have to make life worth living?

He turns to the side and frowns a little. 'You can say no, Es? I'm just being cheeky.'

WHAT THE HECK DOES THAT MEAN?!

'Cheeky? Why?' I ask carefully.

'Are you determined to embarrass me today?' He asks with a semi-grumble. But he sighs a little and rubs his head. 'Because it's nice to have someone to wake up to? And like I said- I'm cold.'

'Quit the act, Cullen. I know full well you're only asking because I don't want to go back into the spider pit just yet.'

'You're hilarious.' He retorts, proudly.

'Go to bed.'

* * *

I head first into my bedroom to grab my stuff and then into the bathroom where I fix my hair into a long plait and brush my teeth. That doesn't take long and soon, I'm back in the famous blue. His shirt is long and floaty. The hem finishes around my ass so that if I bent over while naked (which I obviously won't do with a baboon-butt), you'd probably see the curve of my cheeks. The sleeves hang to the middle of my palms and the buttons are perfectly spaced between each other, leaving barely half a centimetres gap until the next button. I liked the shirt. It smelt like his cologne.

It's so quiet as I climb into his bed that I almost assume he's knocked himself into a coma.

'Esme?'

'See- I told you I keep you up!'

I feel him breathily laugh once more and move closer to my pillow.

'Esme?'

'Yes?'

'Are you even looking at me?' He complains, the minty toothpaste wisping into my face like heaven.

'Hilarious. Of course I am.' Did I really need an excuse to stare?

'I need to- _Hold_ on, is that my shirt?' For some reason, I was expecting the voice to be nearer but I do my best to turn to face it.

'It might be…'

'Your sense of humour is brilliantly mischievous.' It seems our night owl has become braver once again.

' _Hon_ , go to sleep.' I say softly, putting a lot of emphasis on his word. I obviously can't tell when it's pitch black but I would argue that he's smiling.

'No, seriously. I _really_ need to ask a favour…' The tone of his voice has muted into something important.

'A favour from me? Wow. I'm privileged!'

'I'm serious!' He says laughing in that oh-so believeable way.

'What do you want?'

He sighs a little, so that I hear his breath move from hitting me in the face to somewhere above. '...I want you to take a week's holiday from the shop?'

'WHAT?!' I say, cackling. 'That's ridiculous, you know I'd never get that.'

'I really need you to try. Please Es-'

'What- why? Why are you asking me this?'

'I really think it'll help and-'

'Cut the bullshit, Cullen.' I feel him shiver next to me.

'…I've got to go away for a week.'

A WEEK?! A WEEK?! _A WHOLE WEEK?_!

'Why?' I ask, trying to make my voice sound less World-War devastated.

'The hospital wants to open a Neo-natal unit and I'm part of the team to really push funding for it-It'll be such a great opportunity and we could-'

'You don't have to sell it to me. It's _great_ you're going...' I say quietly. He needs to sell this better.

'It's just a week's holiday? Or at worst phone in sick? I-'

'When are you leaving?' I ask sadly, trying to brighten the fuck up but it's pretty impossible now. A whole week? Seven _twenty-four-hour_ days?

'Sunday.' He says, grimly. 'I'm sorry, they've only just sprung it on me.'

SUNDAY?!

'It's impossible for me not to work, I've got bills to pay.' I remind him though at this moment I'm very aware the only bills I had to pay were to him and my car. Which was a mystery. Was it even a car anymore? Who knew?

'You've also got to hand in that painting? And finish all your pieces for Uni?'

'Jeeez, Cullen. Way to stress me out, thanks.'

'No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…. Just take a little week's holiday, take your evenings off, chill out, cook dinner and just get back to being you? _Please_?'

'I am me?' I say bluntly.

'I meant in terms of cooking.'

'You're telling me to take a week's holiday because I haven't been cooking? What kind of fucked up gender comment is that?'

(If it's not clear, I'm pissed off).

'I'm telling you to take a week's holiday because you haven't eaten properly in the last three weeks. For the first time in four years I saw you cry today. You've had complete swings in your attitudes for days and whether you admit it to me or not, which is _fine_ because it's your business, but whatever's happening with your boss isn't right and it isn't your fault.'

' _Mood swings_?!' I demand.

'That's the only thing you pick up on? _Really_?'

'Well what about you with your 'mood swings'?! You're the most passive person I know and you're asking me to stay in your bed and have dinner with you?!' And here comes the hysteria...

'This wasn't a conversation on me.' He disputes meekly. 'This is a conversation on _you_ needing a break!'

'This is a conversation on you being a sexist arsehole!' I retort, turning on my side to ignore him before I blow up in his face.

'I need a break too! Why the hell do you think I'm skipping off to Alaska for the week?'

' _ALASKA_?'

'Why are you mad at me?' HE BETTER NOT BE FUCKING GRINNING OR I SWEAR TO GOD.

'I'm not mad!' I seethe, burying myself in the duvet. It's quiet for the moment as he contemplates his choices. He goes for the dangerous option. Very unwise.

'You _are_ mad.' He states confidently and then in a more sensual tone; 'You tense up when you're mad….' And he drags a fingertip down the very centre of my spine so that I shiver to the point of no return.

'S'not funny.' I murmur. _Don't get turned on, don't get turned on, don't get turned on..._

'You also do this thing where you try to hide?' He shifts so that he's leaning over me to catch a look at my face (which right now is suffocated by his duvet).

'And you glare to try to hide the fact you're smiling.'

I readjust my face to better hide the accused smile.

'And you stop calling me by my first name?' He claims delightfully, his teeth beaming.

'Goodnight, C _arlisle_.' Dammit, it is weird!

'You know I'm right.'

'I know you're full of yourself.' I mutter back.

'Well, you're the one who didn't want me shy.' He says, playfully. I frown at myself in the dark.

'I just want you to be comfortable?' I mutter, confused. He stiffens a little next to me before chuckling softly. Err…did I just say that I wanted him?

'Right.' He says soberly. 'And what if part of who I am is being right ninety-eight percent of the time?'

'Only ninety-eight? Away with false modesty.' I murmur, lightening up a little.

'Es?'

'Aren't you meant to be sleeping?' Goddamn you being Goddamn gorgeous.

'Es?'

'Urgh! What now? What do you want? Yes, I'll try get the week off. Are you happy now?'

How the fuck did one man get so persuasive just because he had the most perfect blue eyes? He sighs a little, returning to his reformed self, his controlled and calm nature, if not a little shy.

'I just want you safe.' He says slowly. 'Safe and happy.'


	21. Reasons why not to piss off the Slag

**_I have to say I'm so unbelievably amazed and grateful for everybody's lovely reviews! They're SO kind and I hope this chapter is just as good! Thank you so much!_**

* * *

By the next morning, because Carlisle can't stand sleeping in, I realise I am once more alone and once more tangled about in this shirt. So much so that when I sit up, it tries to slip off my shoulders. I don't really know how to respond to that. But at least this time I'm wearing underwear?

My phone is going off but because it's early still (you can tell by the chilly air streaming through the open window behind my head) I know it's not my alarm. When I reach across to grab it, sorely reminded of my shitty day from yesterday, I see the abundance of notifications. Three from my boss. One from the bank telling me I've been ' _paid_ ' which I don't even want to address. Four texts and a missed call from Alice aaaand… _nothing_ from Carlisle. And no note either. Fine. Whatever.

I shower quickly, check my injuries and discouragingly get changed in an obsessive amount of layers considering it's just cold outside. My hair is not conforming today so I leave it wavy and head to the kitchen in hope. Downstairs is pretty empty but Carlisle's done his best to clear up. What he hasn't done is left me a note in the kitchen, either.

It's not like I care, it's just a little rude?

I check the time again and grumble, grabbing a bag to leave when something catches my eye on the coffee table…

A heavy set of keys.

Are you kidding me?! FUCKING FINALLY!

My feet skip a few steps on the run down the porch but I'm so pleased to be confronted with my car sitting on the drive I don't even think to complain. I caress her chipped red paint and kiss the bonnet. She's never looked more beautiful. She's worth so much more than the Volvo and Mercedes in the drive. She's got character. I'm almost too excited to be rehomed in a moving vehicle to realise there's a folded note in the alcove of the steering wheel. Okay, so now I'm really grinning. How could I presume he'd forget?

There's only two lines written in his pretentious calligraphy but they're still pretty gorgeous. The first is a number followed by: _Campus Security- about last night. They're expecting your call._ (Not anymore). But beneath are the words I'm really looking for and not just the words, the letters.

 _Ring me ASAP. XXx_ There's even an additional tail to the last _x_ as if he considered giving it a friend and changed his mind last minute- Oh Jesus, I'm really looking too much into this?

Nevertheless, with a proud grin, I place the phone to my ear. He answers immediately, coming across as endearingly impatient in his tone. Which admittedly, is unlike him?

'Carlisle Cullen. I FUCKING _LOVE_ YOU.'

 _'She all okay?'_ He asks proudly and I can just feel myself squealing with delight.

'Fuck me, she's gorgeous. Listen to this…' I turn my keys in the engine and groan along with the erotic purr of my fabulous new engine.

 _'Funny, it's almost like all cars are meant to make that sound?'_ He says playfully.

'Even her chairs! Fucking hell, Carlisle. HER CHAIRS. She's been reupholstered. She's a hot little number now.'

' _We're still on about the car, right?_ '

'Listen!' I squeal excitedly, turning the engine on again and pretty much jumping in my seat. 'Eurgh, can you hear her? I'm not even joking when I say I'm half way through an orgasm right now.'

' _Es_ ,' He laughs gently.

'SHE'S PERFECT!' I cheer emphatically, grinning along to his amused humming. He's almost too happy to let me rave about my obsessive love for independence right now.

 _'So you are happy, then?'_

'I don't care if I have to _sell_ my _soul_ to you in gratitude. I will pay you back!' My grin is hurting my cheeks but I'm just so- I swear to God, I'm actually going to cry.

' _Don't worry about it._ '

'Don't worry about it? Are you kidding? Can you hear how excited I am right now? I've finally got TRANSPORT!'

He laughs a little more, letting me air several more moments of utter joy and obnoxious love before cutting in. Let's just say with my car back and an enthusiastic appreciation for my flatmate, I wasn't far from the truth when I mentioned orgasming.

 _'...If I may interrupt?'_

'Sorry. Go ahead.' My car is so fucking hot!

' _I forgot to…explain again?_ '

'Explain?' I ask. Still stroking my hand along the material of the steering wheel. Mmm.

 _'The other night?_ ' He replies nervously though he can clearly hear I'm distracted enough and gives a relieved sigh. ' _Okay fine, but I swear I will explain tonight. Just don't let me forget-._ '

'Don't panic, Carlisle. You can explain after class?' I say this carelessly because you can hear in his very tongue that this is a conversation he doesn't want to be sharing. His good nature won't let him escape it though. Morals are morals.

I hear him grimace through the receiver and my face instantly falls.

' _That's the thing- I've been called in for a few hours…._ '

He's at work. He's at work on his day off. That is soooo not fair.

'A _few_ hours _?_ ' I am so shit at pretending with this guy. 'When do you finish?'

' _Seven_ …' He says cautiously.

'SEVEN? You told Tilly to come round at six?!'

 _'Which leads onto the next point…'_ He begins, even more wary…

'HELL NO!' _I AM NOT CONTACTING THAT PATHETIC TWIRP!_

' _Aw, come on Es?_ ' In my mind's eye I have the perfect image of him leaning against a wall, arching out his back like he does on very rare occasions. And with that image, I almost fall into his trap and agree.

'No way! It's my day off! I don't want to talk to her!'

' _I'm desperate_?'

'Not desperate enough.' I mutter back, glaring into my rear-view mirror to see my shitty reflection. I look like I'm up for a little challenge.

' _At least give me her number so **I** can phone her_?'

Go jump into an ice cold bath you walking dildo.

'Shouldn't you remember it?' I add icily, my nose scrunching up already.

 _'Don't be mad_?'

Instead of denying my apparent madness, I huff at him.

' _And stop glaring_.' He adds with a pleased sound, dammit. ' _It is just her number_?'

'Why is this bitch coming to our house?'

I'm almost surprised by my vicious name calling but he's clearly not. After a few seconds pause, back comes a mumbled laugh and I'm suddenly jealous of his work schedule. Why do random strangers get to see him grinning when I'm stuck on a phone line?

' _Because we invited her?_ ' He replies hesitantly.

'Ah-em.'

' _Please don't be mad- I've got another favour to ask..._ '

'CARLISLE!' Oh my God. Day off! Do you know how rare these bitches are?! I _never_ get a day off.

' _I need you to pick up Alice and Jaz later, if possible? They've asked to stay round so they can drink_.'

And yet another excuse to vacate a bed has made itself apparent. There's no way in hell I'm going to complain about that.

'Oh? That's no problem, I can do that?' Also, any excuse to run these wheels is something I'm going to revel in.

' _And…Meet me for lunch?_ '

'No.' I reply quickly, trying to hold the smirk. He instantly sounds offended.

' _What? Why_?'

'I am pissed at you right now?'

' _…you don't sound pissed?_ ' He replies, slowly.

I'm about to poke my tongue out when I realise he's not sat next to me and it would have no actual effect on the both of us.

'Well, I am.' How could I be pissed off when I'm blushing?

' _Just meet me for lunch and I'll earn your forgiveness_?' He sings playfully.

'No.' I reply more fiercely this time. Though this idea quickly dissipates. What better way to earn forgiveness than to praise my awesome teachings? I.e. - Finally I'm going to get to studying biology with this Adonis! '…But if you _happen_ to text me then whatever?'

' _Thank-youuuu._ '

'Just to let you know, you totally cock-blocked my moment with my car.'

He chuckles again in his humming manner, probably rolling his shoulders like he does sometimes. ' _Why does that not surprise me?_ '

' _Anyway, I'm getting glared at- I've got to go…'_

I check the time and sigh again. Euuurgh I need to leave as well, I'm going to be late.

' _I'll see you later_ ,' he continues when I don't reply.

'No you won't!' But he's hung up already.

* * *

Luckily for me, the morning in general flies by and after what I think is going to be a tense phone call, Alice brings my mood back up. She's looking forward to tonight, more about Bella and Edward if I'm honest and she's barely spent time with Jasper this week. It's sweet though, our little group-ness.

I've got an hour or so to kill before my next lecture and my plan is just to go wandering around the building but my phone keeps blowing up. Even when I try to ignore it. Three missed calls from my boss and one from Tilly.

Nope. Day off. I _refuse_. I'm in a good mood for once in my life, I'm going to ignore it. But Tilly's just sent me an aggressive text. _DO YOU WANT TO GET FIRED?! Answer your phone!_ So I tentatively phone her back.

'What?' I ask carefully.

' _Get your arse down here!_ '

Why is a twelve year old ordering me around?!

'It's my day off.' I say, irritably.

' _And? Do you know how pissed he is?!'_

'I've got lessons…I'm _not_ coming in….' I answer. Fucking hell I'm a wimp.

 _'YOU. ARE. GETTING. FIRED._ '

For a second I think about crushing the phone and celebrating. Then reality comes falling into context and then the idea of poverty and financial hardships and all of a sudden I'm freaking out.

' _WHAT_?!' _Fired_?! Why am _I_ getting fired?! I've never been fired. Why the fuck would _I_ be fired?! It was just a lie to Cullen?! FOR FUCK SAKE MY BOSS USED MY ASS AS A PUNCHBAG AND I HAVEN'T COMPLAINED!

'Exactly!' She whines in her petulant manner and within a second, I'm already arguing with myself. Go to your lessons. Go to your lessons, Esme. Fuck. Stop it. Don't you dare put your key…stop driving…WHY AM I MAKING THESE SHIT DECISIONS?!

Once I've parked (horrendously), I throw open the shop door and rush to the till.

'What the hell is going on?!' I complain, slamming both palms on the empty counter to grab the school girl's attention.

Tilly's sat on the counter, swinging her legs and looking through her phone as though my presence is boring her. She's minutes away from blowing up a pink bubble of gum and shoving her hair in bunches.

'Knew that'd get you here.' She says with a side smile, her eyes glued to the brick in her hands.

I'm losing my shit. My hands are already turning to claws as I fight the urge to strangle this cow. 'For fuck sake Tilly! I had lessons!' Correction; have. I'm jeopardising my life for some drama about COFFEE.

'Yeah, yeah.' She says flippantly, waving her hand at me. 'So is Carlisle picking me up or paying for a taxi?'

THIS BITCH CALLED ME OVER HERE TO CHAT ABOUT _MY_ FLATMATE?!

'He's working- he'll let you know.' I seethe, folding my arms across my chest because I'm seconds away from lunging at her. Tilly's face falls and I'm just about to address it when my Boss comes thumping into view from behind.

'Where the _hell_ have you been?!' He roars, leering once again as if I were beneath him. Out of nowhere, I find a strike of courage and hold onto that bitch like it's my life source.

'It's my day off.' I repeat, using the same disgruntled tone as him.

His bulbous eyes widen and with an infuriated expression, he shakes his head.

'OFFICE!'

'I've got lessons!' I shout back, jumping a little volume of my voice. A viper's grip he takes a hold of my arm, pinching the skin above my elbow as if we were in private and throws me forward so that I stumble. Shit. Are people staring? Am I going to have to pay-? This _shouldn_ 't be happening, I shouldn't even be here! With

'If you know what's _good_ for you, you'll get moving.' He spits into my hair. My mouth doesn't do anything but gawp at him. He's just touched me. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. In a strop, I get moving, making sure _I_ get into the office first so I can give it a once over for a weapon. The phone maybe? No that's ridiculous. Maybe the photo-frame of his family sitting on the desk- but I'd have to smash it first.

'You want to give me attitude?! Do you?!' He shouts, his words hitting hard despite the large space between us.

'I'm not working today!' I repeat, infuriated. Why can't I just be happy so-and-so who _just_ got her car back?!

'Do you think I want you working today you insolent child?!'

From where he's standing he grabs a packet of paper from the shelf and throws it my way. It's just a wad of pages so it hits me in the face, the staple leaving the tiniest of scratches so that I jump.

LAST FUCKING TIME- I SWEAR.

My curled fists are starting to unsteady themselves but I do my best to keep my footing rigid. My eyes accidentally look down. It's a form? A holiday form? What?

Now my interest is too disturbed to focus on getting out here. The old man in front is huffing impatiently, annoyed by my lack of urgency so I grab the sheets and look through them. It's a set of forms requesting 10 days off starting tomorrow… in _my_ name?!

'WELL?! He shrieks, his chins overflowing out of his face.

I'm bent on the floor, scrambling through the white to skip ahead to the last page… with my signature?! I did _not_ fill out a holiday form? How could I? I was only asked about it-

OH MY FUCKING GOD. _CULLEN_ FORGED MY SIGNATURE. Wait a minute- it's signed it off. My boss has signed it off? I have ten days holiday?! I HAVE TEN DAYS HOLIDAY?!

'When were you going to tell me?!'

'Tell you what?' I reply calmly. 10 days off?! He'd actually signed it. Is this even happening? I HAVE TIME OFF!

'About this holiday?!'

I don't reply, just keep my hands on the paper and watch ahead. He's starting to pace around me.

'You think this is funny?!'

'No.' I reply quickly. Because I genuinely don't. Though I'm so unbelievably relieved my chest is starting to hurt. All I have to do is get the hell out then I can start my holiday! I have a _10-day_ holiday! Holiday means time off. Time off means I can work on my piece, I can relax, I can catch up on reading and-

'You don't deserve it.' He mumbles, eyes to the floor as he begins to huff and grunt. It soon becomes apparent he's winding himself up as we face each other.

I look up from the floor and try to take even breaths.

'You've already granted it to me?' I hold the paper back in desperation to protect it from his grubby hands.

'Get on the floor!' He seethes, slamming the door.

Shit.

'No!' My arm reaches out to grab whatever is behind to find it's just the desk so I grip my nails into that, preparing.

He takes measured steps towards me till he is inches from my face, his pig snout trying to touch mine but I lean as far back as I can. He's taller than me by several inches, and wider. And smells vile.

'My Brown-eyes has a temper?' He says delightfully, eyes racking over my several layers of clothing. There's no way he could get me naked without a fight. Far too much material on my body. Finally, an advantage.

'Stop calling me that.' I reply tightly, unaware of the movement of my mouth. He narrows his glare.

'On the _floor_.' He slams a hand to my shoulder, pushing with all his weight so that I cave and sink miserably to my knees. Eye to eye with his crotch.

'Get off me.' I fight miserably, trying to shake off his grip but he tightens his hand until not only am I immovable, but I'm also in pain. I seem to always be in pain.

His other hand goes to his zip.

No. No. No. No. _No…_

I keep trying to push away but it's impossible. I can't move back into a desk and I won't move forward-…

My stomach takes a turn, swishing around till I'm green with sickness. With his right hand, he continues to tease himself, holding me close so that I have to witness it all. He pulls himself free from the fabric, moaning aloud as he touches himself, edging closer to my tightly-locked mouth.

The door is thrown open. Tilly comes in, screams into a giggling fit and jumps out the way. But the exposure has done enough to shock him and with the paper in my grip, I scramble out that box room for the sake of my life. She is standing in the hallway, laughing manically, red in the face as she tries to cover up her mistaken giggles but I push past till I've hidden myself in the car and have driven at least forty yards down the street.

Admittedly, I cope much better than yesterday. I don't cry. But I do have to keep breathing loudly through a shaky mouth to stop the tantrum that's threatening to break through. It's getting worse until finally I have to find somewhere to stop in order to silence the nausea.

And guess where I pick.

Miserably, I spend a few moments trying to slow my heart, trying to keep myself in control by gritting my teeth. The shakes take over. They always do, but I try to focus on only that in order to create a front. It takes a long time, a stupidly long time. Until eventually, I have to get out and pay for parking.

* * *

Luckily for me, it's not crazy busy in the hospital and simply through taking a peak into A & E, someone spots me.

'Need any help, Dear?'

I hesitate, she's a nice looking woman, friendly and elderly.

'Err C-Cullen?' I didn't expect to be stammering so badly. 'Looking for C-Carlisle Cullen?'

'Of course! Just take a seat.'

'Wait. I'm not a-' It's too late, she's gone. Fuck.

Unlike a few days ago, when he spots me his first instinct this time is to smile. But the smile turns into a frown and without entering this little waiting area, he wiggles an index finger at me: beckoning me up and beckoning me forward. I duck my head as I pass all these people and quickly hurry over to him, trying to restore a sense of bravery.

'You're early?' He greets with a grin.

'Don't you _dare_. I'm furious at you now.'

He thinks this is some sort of game and raises an eyebrow trying to hold the smirk. But I throw the papers to his chest as though I'm using a stapler. He jumps. Then frowns.

'Don't you dare even laugh, I am _livid_ with you, Carlisle. Do you know how much trouble you nearly got me in?!'

Breathe, breathe, breathe…

He takes the sheets from his chest and looks through them, his eyes widening by the end.

'You had to go collect it?' He guesses.

I roll my eyes in frustration. ' _Obviously_!'

' _Alone_?!' He yelps, panicked.

'What did you expect?! Forging signatures is technically a crime!'

'I am _so_ unbelievably Sor-'

For some weird reason I've managed to survive not crying. Or not freaking out. Yelling is helping, I already feel calmer. Though his face- I'M STILL ANGRY AT THIS BASTARD, WHAT AM I SAYING?

'You couldn't look smugger!' He looks up at me, his brightly blue eyes and sharp jaw strikingly gorgeous once again. My head hurts.

'I really _am_ sorry.'

'No you're not.' I realise bitterly. He just doesn't fucking think-. I'm about to turn away from him but he grabs my hand to get me to look at him, pleading.

'Esme, I'm serious. I couldn't be more apologetic. I'd _never_ want to put you in any kind of danger.' He promises sincerely, nearly knocking me over with the extent of his endearing face. This bastard.

'Whatever I tell you, I tell you in _confidence_ , not because I want you to act on it!' WHY IS IT TAKING HIM SO LONG TO REALISE THIS!

'I know.' He says miserably.

'You just don't-'

A tall woman has just come up behind him, watching over us like some sort of guardian whose about to jump in and defend him any second. My stature instantly shrinks. As does his. By a margin. He's making Thumbelina look like a giant.

'Doctor Cullen.' She greets with a nod. She's very well dressed: tall and posh looking. Easily in her forties though not one speck of her dark hair is giving away such a detail. Carlisle shrinks even more before sighing and bucking up his ideas.

'Esme, this is Doctor Browning…'

Right?

'Err? Hi?' Yeah, not in the mood for a mothers meeting. We're in the middle of a conversation here.

'Doctor Browning, this is Miss Platt?' He introduces hesitantly.

Miss Platt? Why Miss _Platt_? What's with the formalities? And why is he looking like he wants to kill himself right now? He couldn't fall any further into his coat if he wanted to. The doctor holds out her hand to shake mine, temporarily putting a file under her opposite arm. She has a delicate touch and a nice smile but her eyes are stern and there's just something about this thing going on that I'm just not trusting. Firstly, Cullen's colour.

'Are you ready?' She asks looking at me rather than her co-worker.

'Me?' I ask confused.

Cullen grimaces. Oh my…

'You _are_ kidding.'

'I'm really sorry!' He says quickly, shrugging a little and stepping back. The lady behind is pointing to a room opposite.

'Exam room 2.'

'WHAT FOR?!'

'I'm really sorry.' Carlisle repeats. 'I'll make it up to you after, I swear.'

'AFTER WHAT?!' I yell at him but he's already slipping away at speed. 'CULLEN?!'

I gawk after him, utterly infuriated and stuck in a state of total confusion. WHY IS THIS BITCH STILL POINTING TO AN EXAM ROOM?! I stalk past her with a heavy stomp and stand in the middle of the room, arms folded in combat. She closes the door, takes a seat close to me and sighs. I step back.

'So he didn't inform you that he's spoken to me?' She sighs.

'No.' I answer coldly. She rolls her eyes and opens up her file on her lap to start…doodling? ' _SO_?!'

'Hmm?' She says carelessly, refusing to raise even a _look_ my way.

'Why am I in your EXAM ROOM?!'

On second thoughts, this anger is nice. It's taking away from the fact I might pass out from cold blooded disgust.

Doctor Browning shrugs. 'You tell me. You're the patient.'

Fuck this shit. 'No, not at all? I'm not even within the realms of _needing_ to be a patient?! I am perfectly healthy?'

She doesn't reply for a while, just continues to draw, placing a foot on the chair opposite in the knowledge I'm not going to sit down.

'So you're discharging yourself?'

'From what?! I'm _not_ a bloody patient!'

She pretends I've said nothing. Which although infuriating, means I'm forced to calm down a little.

'Why did he want me to speak with you?' I ask eventually, my nose pulling up and my teeth drawing blood from my tongue. Arrogant, selfish, imposing bastard!

She sighs again and looks up to me in disinterest. 'I was under the impression you were in pain?'

'No, I'm _fine_. Can I leave?!'

She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head at me in a way that is both patronising comforting. 'Quite a quick answer for such an open question, Miss Platt. Sounds like you've had it well-rehearsed?'

Is it older folk who are condescending or just Cullen's buddies?

'Well how long does it take for me to realise if I'm in pain or not?' I snap, trying not to let my lip curl.

'You tell me.'

EURGH.

'I'm _fine_!' I repeat, angrily, already losing what little of my calm I had left.

'Limping quite a bit for someone who's not in pain?' She murmurs, still not looking my way.

'I'm not limping!' Though my ass has been making it difficult to face anything to do with movement of the lower limbs. 'I have dumpy legs!'

She smirks a little but doesn't stop her interrogation. 'Dumpy legs that only cause you to limp depending on how you walk?'

'And a shit spine.'

She shakes her head, decidedly and pats the brown folder on her lap. 'If it's not on your file, it doesn't exist.'

Is it just doctors who are up themselves? Is it something they teach you a medical school? A: Here's how to stay a virgin B: Here's how to be an arsehole about it.

'THIS IS RIDICULOUS!'

'You're quite an angry at the moment, aren't you Miss Platt?'

'I DO _NOT_ HAVE A TEMPER!' AND I'M NOT FUCKING FIESTY, EITHER!

'That's not what I said, I said you were angry ' _at the moment'._ ' She corrects.

'Oh well excuse me for being so careless?!'

She smirks again, and puts the file down to share a look with me. 'I can see why he likes you…'

'Because he likes pain?!' Because I'm going to run him over with my perfectly brilliant car!

She rolls her eyes which pisses me off once more. 'He's such an introvert, I was almost amazed when he claimed he had someone to be fussed over.'

Something in my attitude changes. Not much, I'm still angry. But now I'm angry for different reasons.

'Carlisle's not an introvert?' I retort stiffly.

'A loner then.'

I glare at her. Was she forty or _four_?!

'He's not a loner!' I growl. 'He's fine, leave him alone.'

'Pretty rude of him to speak on your behalf, though. Taking over and such?' She surmises to herself, moving her mouth into a sad curve.

'He's not taking over?' I reply. 'It's just what he does, he panics.'

'Condescending, don't you think? Almost misogynistic?'

My jaw falls apart.

'Carlisle is _not_ a misogynist!' I reply hotly. 'The only reason he's brought me in here is because he's _concerned_! It's actually really thoughtful?!'

THIS BITCH!

'What's there to be concerned about? You can defend yourself?'

'I KNOW THAT!' I spit through gritted teeth. I take a few unnerved breaths and sit on the chair to the right of her feet. She watches curiously.

'Look, some guy just got a little rowdy the other night and he slapped my ass and it hurt. He's clearly just worried….'

She seems amazed I've stopped yelling. 'Did they slap you hard?'

I go to reply but my mouth hesitates. She's patient.

'No…' I watch her carefully. My gut seems to be doing flips and while on one hand I think I'm about to spew my guts, on the other I seem to be weirdly in control.

'Look, whatever judgements you've got of him, just drop it. He's just trying to make me feel better.' Like he always does, it's hardly his fault he's so sheltered.

'And why do you need to feel better?'

My underhand grips the plastic of the chair and I try and take several more breathers to not go yelling in strangers faces.

'Because…I'm in a little bit of pain.' I confess, biting on my lip in shame.

'How long have you had the pain?'

I'm a little struck by her mode of conduct. It's professional but not over professional. Like a down to Earth kind of trusting.

'Since yesterday?' Since when did talking become really easy?

'When the limping started?' She guesses.

'…Essentially.' I reply quietly.

'On your rear?'

I look to the floor to stare at her brown shoes. They're almost like kitten heels which makes me feel a bit sick but then I remember that's really rude and I try to lighten up a little. I nod.

'May I take a look?'

I don't answer for a really long time, thinking.

'Please don't mention this to him.' I hush quietly, standing up and unbuttoning my jeans away from her.

'Patient confidentiality, Miss Platt.' She reminds me with complaint.

'Wait!' I hold out my hand to stop her from coming so close. She raises another eyebrow, allowing me to vent.

'Don't….put this on my file either?' I beg.

She rolls her eyes and throws the paper away to the desk as a reply. I pull the jeans to my knees and hesitate with my underwear but she gruffs and I take the initiative to pull them down too.

I wish I didn't.

'Oh?!' She gasps and I whip my head round to glare at her. 'Sorry, sorry… urm. On a scale of 1-10 how bad is the pain?'

'I don't know: _four_?' Last night I was probably peaking an eight but now with an eerie tone of composure comes no pain. 'I can't sit for too long and I avoid walking too much but it's only been an evening.'

'Right…'

It's awkwardly silent as she stares in horror. I catch a glimpse to see the slight colouring of purple on my side…and with that, I bring my view back. I don't want to see.

'Well, what do you suggest?'

'… Bed-rest?' She guesses with a shrug.

'Excuse me?'

'It's bruised.'

'Obviously.' I snap back. 'What do I do to get rid of it?' URGENTLY.

'Invent a time machine. It's a _bruise_?' Did this bitch even go to medical school or is she some sort of vet? 'I'd sit on some ice to reduce the swelling-'

'Hilarious.' I interrupt.

'Yes, well I'm not joking. Sit on some ice, make sure you rub some cream into the skin and erm…Rest?'

'That's it?'

'I'm going to be honest, it's worse than I expected. What happened?'

'What happened? Clearly someone went ape on my ass! What does it look like?!' I complain, my voice getting obnoxiously whiny again.

'Well, I would've argued it look like someone hit you?'

'It wasn't like that…it's complicated just forget it.' I glare at her a little harder, my eyes hurting my face. But she allows me to cover up and takes a seat back by the desk, a hand to her mouth, thinking hard.

'So like _consensual_?' She says in a weird tone. Part of me heaves.

'NO!' I half squeal. 'Jesus! Isn't that inappropriate?'

'I apologise, I never meant to imply anything. It just seems like a pretty severe mark for something that 'doesn't' fit under the umbrella of 'abuse'?'

There's a weird sinking feeling in my heart.

'Oh my God, you think this was from Carlisle?!'

'Isn't it?' She replies impatiently.

'You're making assumptions about your co-workers based off of their flatmate's ass?!' WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE PROMOTE THIS MEETING IF THIS IS HER SUMMATION?!

She sighs again, watching my response carefully. 'I did say before he is _very_ limited in his friends?'

HE'S FINE!

'This is _NOT_ from Carlisle?! For fuck sake, he's wouldn't touch me if I begged!' Getting weird. 'It was from my boss!'

My stomach lurches again and for a few seconds, I have to ignore my surroundings to avoid losing my nerve and upchucking.

Oh….no. But she pulls herself up in her seat. 'Your boss?' She repeats.

Now I've fucked myself over.

'Yea-uh-. Look just don't tell him, please don't tell him. I don't want him to know. He's suspicious enough as it is.'

Breathing is good. I'm going to make sure I do that.

'Why don't you want Carlisle to know?'

Why am I word vomiting on this stranger?!

'He just _can't_ know- it's humiliating...' I whimper, panicked.

'So, your boss _hit_ you?' She repeats, still taking her time to survey the scene.

I've taken the seat opposite her, my shoulders slumped, kneading my face with my hands and trying to sniff through my nose. It's coming out in raspy noises which is making it sound like I'm trying to knock myself out. She's watches, concerned.

'I think he's got a bit of a thing for me, that's all.' I mumble under my breath.

Although she isn't writing, she is flicking a pen about while I watch.

'Are the feelings reciprocated?'

'Obviously not? Just forget I mentioned it, it's nothing!'

'Has he done anything _else_ inappropriate?'

My brain splits into two. One half replaying the events of today until the room is spinning while the other side tries to distract myself as much as possible.

'This must be really hard for you… I'm sorry' She says slowly taking the point that I'm obviously not going to reply to properly.

'I'm fine.' I insist sourly. 'Look can I just go? I clearly only need ice and 'rest'.'

For fuck sake, how pathetic. Sit on ice? _Really_?

She smiles a little and starts to write in the corner of a page. Tearing it off in a strip, she hands it to me. It's a number.

'Miss Platt, if I might be so bold, I'd like you to request an appointment at this number.'

'I don't talk to strangers.' I say quickly, ignoring the offering of the slip but it's weird and if I don't take it soon, she might put it into my purse.

'You've just sat and talked to me for forty minutes?' She reassures.

FORTY MINUTES?! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?!

'Please don't look so alarmed. I really think a counsellor might be able to help-'

'I don't need counselling!' I retort back, standing up again to make a dramatic exit but she puts a gentle hand out, offering the slip. Out of ease I put it into my pocket.

'I'm thinking perhaps it's best to enlighten you. Miss Platt. I am a counsellor. I'm Doctor Browning of the psychiatric department upstairs.'

WHAT?!

'I'm not crazy!' I half shriek. Which only makes me sound crazier which is really, really stupid. URGH.

'We never insinuated you were?'

We? WE? OH MY- CULLEN.

I don't even think, I just stand up and leave as quickly as possible, slamming the door loudly just because I'm so frustratingly humiliated. AND I TRIED TO DEFEND THE BASTARD.


	22. Reasons why forgiveness is easy

_**Thank you once more for the lovely reviews, they're so uplifting and super lovely! I would be just as grateful if you could share your opinions on this chapter, too!**_

 _ **Thank you kindly!**_

* * *

'Es?'

'Don't even fucking speak, you _inconsiderate_ Gonorrhea of a being. You've got your head wrapped so _tightly_ up your own ass, you're giving yourself gum disease!'

'Bu-'

'Don't even start, don't even step towards me!' I continue to rant. 'Do absolutely _fuck all_ for once!'

I take a second to grasp my surroundings in order not to implode with fury and I'm suddenly unaware why I'm yelling. We're being stared at, by a lot of people…and Cullen is bright red.

'Esme, I'm reall-'

'Don't even say it. If you were sorry, you wouldn't have done it!' I'm about to go stomping off in an attempt to hold on to my anger when he grabs my fingers, lightly holding them. _Oh_...

'Please let me explain-'

'NO!'

'Esme? _Please_.' I look around once again and shrink inside myself. All these eyes, all these people. ' _Please_?' He repeats softly and he just knows he has me.

He knows he has me for one big reason. When I've turned to glare at him, I forgotten to glare and instead I'm just staring at his sincere expression, reading every ounce of worry and concern and respect in them eyes. Just like that, as if I were simply someone else, my stubborn anger is gone and I sigh softly.

* * *

Doctor Maddison, who has come to recognise my presence, is happy to dismiss Cullen a little earlier for his break. And in my so-called-'fury', which has dissipated to irritation, I let him eagerly drag me to the cafeteria.

'What's the rush?' I complain sombrely as he whizzes ahead, grabbing something for lunch and pulling me to a seat before I even have time to whine. The fact he's paid is okay though because the food he's buying is dirt. I take one mouthful and have to discretely discard the rest in the box.

'I want you to hurry and tell me off so I can make it up to you.' He says with a grin, pulling out the seat opposite and shrugging off his doctor's jacket. He smiles widely, his teeth bright against the ceiling lights. I sigh and throw a bit of my sandwich at him.

'This is serious, Carlisle. I'm really upset with you.' He winces on the word ' _upset_ ' and hides beneath his shoulders.

'I know.'

'Firstly, what's the point in forging my signature? It's so bloody-'

'I know.' He says quickly, cringing slightly. I huff at him.

'Are you going to be a baby or are you going to sit there and take the guilt like a man?'

He picks at his food before smirking. 'You're giving me the choice?'

'The quicker you let me get my point across, the quicker I can forgive you.'

He seems a little taken aback by this, like forgiveness was completely unforseeable. Damn. If I was clever, I could've used his guilt to my advantage.

'Yes M'am.'

'Moving on from felonies to once again piss on my whole sense of self-worth -' I start once more.

'I'm really sorry!' He intervenes, guilty.

'Carlisle!'

He faces the table again, pinches his eyes slightly and bends low so that his blonde locks cover the view of his eyes. To be perfectly fair, I was meant to be angrier at him. Angry and humiliated and infuriated and pissed at my boss... but I'm not? I'm not numb either, I just want to move on. Why would I want to be angry at him when he'll be gone for a week?

With agitated hands, he fiddles with the straw of his drink. His ears are dark red and he's biting his lip as though he just can't bear to have me upset- which _is_ somewhat endearing?

'Deceiving me is _not_ okay. Ever. And the fact you got some chick to pretend she was an actual doctor-'

'She _is_ an actual doctor?'

I glare at him to which he shrivels away from.

'I showed her my ass. How am I meant to live that down?'

'What? Why?'

'Because-' Dropped myself in that one, great one genius. 'This isn't important. What's important is that you went behind my back, _again_ , trying to take over and made it worse. STOP. PARENTING. ME.'

'I just wanted to help?' He tries to defend but even he hates himself.

'Well, stop it. Things are so much better when you're just honest with me?'

'Like you are with me?' He replies quickly and the instant expression on his face resembles every example of regret I can think of. 'I didn't mean that!'

I'm more surprised than snappy. Sighing and pushing my hair away from my face, I take a moment to appreciate his genuine foolishness.

'Did you ever notice that when you don't push, it's easier to talk to you? The more you pester, the less I want to open up.'

'I'm sorry.'

His head is bent low, his hands fidgeting and his shoulders, tense. I couldn't imagine him being told off before. I didn't exactly want to be the one to start but the idea is funny. The pained expression on his face, however, is not.

Tentatively I reach across and poke his hand. He opens it up and shows me the palm like an offering of peace.

'You are _okay_ though, aren't you? You're safe?'

This is the moment he looks straight through me so that my blood runs cold and my stomach curls up. All I can think is how different today would be if it wasn't for Tilly being so careless-.

'I'm fine?'

'It's pathetic how much I worry, isn't it?' He sighs. He pushes his hand through his combed hair and leans away from me, taking his hand with him.

I give a small measurement to which he laughs at.

'Can I please just make it up to you, now?' He asks impatiently, pushing aside his food though he's barely touched it. I roll my eyes.

'What's got you so eager?'

'You're going to love it, I swear! Close your eyes.'

My heart immediately starts to quicken its pace but I do as I'm told and close my eyes.

'You're not looking, are you?'

'No!' I say laughing but from nowhere, some sort of fabric blind fold is being tied around my eyes so I really am in total darkness. No cheating then.

'How about now?'

'I couldn't see in the first place?'

'I like to be sure.' I can picture the grin.

'So why do I need to be blind-folded?' I ask softly, taking the risk to lean to what I think is towards him on the table, lifting my chin up slightly and biting my lip. Maybe I should've worn make-up today? Or done my hair all nice? Or just done something.

My skin seems to be growing warmer under what I'm presuming to be his gaze but might just be nothing. I probably look like a twit.

'It's a surprise.' He whispers to my ear, his hot breath against my throat like perfume and out of nowhere, a shiver runs from my neck to my heels.

* * *

'Can you stand?'

'You're going to have to guide me?' I say once we're up and ready. He interlocks his hand, fingers siding along mine until I'm safe in his grip.

'Okay, head in a straight line. It's about thirty steps to the elevator.'

'I can't see anything.' I complain reaching my other hand out to grab my coat.

'I've got it. Okay ready. Thirty steps.'

He gently pulls me along which at first I distrust immensely, taking stupid steps and tapping the ground as if I'm going to fall through it.

'You're fine, Es. Stairs.'

I kick out my foot against the floor to find, instead of a step going up, there's lack of floor. That means going down.

'Stairs?! Let me take the blind fold off.'

'There's only five of them, just put your hand on the bannister?'

'Please let me take the blind fold off? I really don't want to trip and die, I'll be so embarrassed.'

'Fiiine.'

His hand gently unclasps mine and I'm about to pull off my blindfold when he swats me away.

'Hey!'

'I've got it.' He says in a laugh.

And out of nowhere, I'm suddenly being lifted.

'No, no, no, put me down. Put me down _right_ now.'

'Stop causing a scene.' He says playfully but as he takes, what I'm praying to God is a _pretend_ fall forward, I squeal and grip onto his shirt. The collar is open- which means he's wrapped his tie around my head. Clever. And cute. And hot.

'Please, you've gotta put me down. I'm really heavy.'

'You're fine, Esme. You weigh hardly anything. And you've lost weight again.'

'I have?' I ask with a beaming smile.

'Stop looking so pleased, you're probably under your BMI as it is.'

Lost weight huh? I was happy with that. Exceptionally happy.

'Anyway, it's easier than it was the other day.' He says with a chuckle.

'The other day?'

'Urgh, I'm not explaining it now. I'll do it later.'

'Carlisle Cullen, I think you're _deliberately_ avoiding the topic.'

'Last step, ready?'

But he's back on solid ground before I have chance to reply, which he lowers me gently to and interlaces his hand again. For a moment, I remind myself to be grateful in avoiding wearing a skirt this morning. Not that I wear skirts anyway. Or many dresses. Dresses were a night out thing.

'Probably only ten steps to the elevator now.'

'Where, forward?'

But his hand is on the waist of my coat pulling me a certain way so that I'm laughing again.

'Left.'

'Blind leading the blind here.' I comment under my breath.

I hear the bell of the elevator and the sound of opening doors and let him lead me in.

'Did you wanna hear a cool fact about the death rates of people in lifts?'

His hand squeezes tighter and there's a distinct sound of a laugh in his chest.

'We're not alone.' He murmurs to my neck again. The shudder is expected this time.

'Is it many floors?'I ask quietly, pushing into the arm that is holding my hand.

'I'm not telling you…' He replies, his hand encasing all electricity and warmth while I giggle.

I like holding his hand. It feels comfortable. Just like a usual Doctor, everything but the palm is silky cold like he's been chilling out in a fridge. They aren't as coarse as they were the other day and his palm seems alive with a mix of warmth and slight sweat. He is clearly self-conscious of this, though. He keeps wiping his hands on his coat. Sweetie.

'Hey, did you get to that bit in _50 Shades_ with the lift?'

'Esme!' He gasps, clearly embarrassed. There's a snigger or two infront of me but it doesn't matter to me because I'm in the dark.

'I do have to work here, you know.' He says quietly, his lips close to my ear again and the side of his cheek brushing against my own so that I can feel the suggestion of stubble. Mmmm.

'I take it that's a _yes_ then?' I say aloud, deliberately not holding back. His fingers slightly squeeze my own and I have the pleasure of imagining the various shades of colour that are taking over in his complexion. The lift pulls to a halt so that I wobble a little but he drags me out again, murmuring apologies to non-existent people while he continues to send me on a hospital tour.

'How far is this surprise, Asia?'

'Have some faith in me, _please_ Miss Platt.'

'I'm not even going to dignify that remark with an answer.' I mutter but he's pushing and pulling me into more directions till I'm dizzy.

'I swear to God, if we don't quit now I'm going to vomit on your shoes. How far are we?!'

'We're here. But keep the blindfold on. And put your hands over your ears.'

I'm seconds away from complaining when he untangles his fingers and holds my hands over both ears as an example. I'm about to make a deaf and blind joke, not that any are any good, when he's pulling me through another door again.

'Just to let you know I'm expecting full-out killer forensics after this build up.' I say aloud, unsure of my volume now my hearing is muffled.

The cold hand is thrown playfully over my mouth. Oooh, intimate?

'Are you just pissed at me 'coz I made you feel guilty? Is this revenge?' I mumble against his hand, confused.

'Shhhh.'

There's a smell in the air. There's always a smell in hospitals but this one smells particularly…new. It's making my eyes water. For a second, I think I hear a scream, but I realise that's gotta be ridiculous unless Cullen's turned serial killer on me. Which isn't unlikely, I guess with Daddy issues.

He's pulling my hands from my ears.

'I said: you can _look_ now.'

Oh. I go to untie his tie but he's already fussing around with it behind my head for me. The second it's out the way, light floods in and I'm stood blinking for a few minutes like a weirdo. But then there's crying? So I look towards the sound. We're stood beside a huge wall of glass.

'Newborns?' I ask softly, turning immediately to the squabbling infants. There's four rows of six. The majority of the cots are empty but the ones that aren't have peacefully sleeping children in them. My mouth falls open and with a humble sigh I appreciate every moment of sweetness that surrounds us.

'Oh, Carlisle!' I breathe gratefully. As far as surprises go, this is a weird one. But perfect. Absolutely perfect. He knows how much I love children.

I look across to him. He has his forehead resting on the top of the glass, gazing proudly at them all. Our younger generation. A nurse has just wondered back in to take their temperatures, check their weight, all that meaningless importance while we stare.

He realises I'm not saying much and smiles.

'Cute, huh?'

I'm speechless. I never expected him to be so…family oriented. I point at the glass with a smile.

'I like that one's socks.' It has little ducks surrounding a pink background.

'She's…' he squints, reading the paper of her incubator… 'About two hours old.'

'She's tiny.'

He nods slowly. 'But healthy.'

'Change of career plan huh? Thinking of becoming a midwife?'

He grins sloppily before shaking his head. 'Not quite, it's just a nice perk of the job…'

'I thought you never liked kids.' I accuse. He's taken back by this, maybe a little offended, an eyebrow lifting slightly.

'Why?!'

'I've never seen you with any before.' I reply quickly. Apart from Johnathan but that was only on emergencies. Surprisingly, he laughs.

'We don't have a dog, doesn't mean I hate them.' I look back to the babies, he looks wondrously at them all, like he's amazed at the product of life. God knows what he'll be like when his time comes.

'We should get a dog.' I sigh.

'We can barely look after Edward, what makes you think we'll cope with a puppy?'

I nudge him with my arm before returning to my original space, staring at the little one with the scrunched face. I also quite like her neighbour. He's even smaller curled in blankets upon blankets with a tiny little hat on his head.

'I _wish_ we had a dog.'

'It wasn't _that_ bad, was it?' He guesses, reading my sadness. It's kind of fake sad, I'm a little too numb to have realised that it's going to be another four years under my boss if I don't get this scholarship.

Four years and I'd only _just_ managed to escape today…

'Well I got the holiday?' It sounds like a joke because the tone is so relaxed. My voice is as gentle as his, but I blame that on the sleeping humans in front of my eyes. These lot are making me broody. I'm half broody already.

'What happened?' He asks quietly because he literally cannot stop himself. I ignore his eyes on my face and focus on the kiddies.

'I told you; _nothing_!' That came out too quickly. I grimace.

He frowns.

When I look to him, I realise he's leaning on the glass for support. But I can't tell if that's him tired or just trying to stop himself from interfering. Either way I respect it. It means he's trying.

'I'm sorry.'

'Will you ever tell me?' He sighs. I avoid the blue and look to the little lives wriggling about. They're gorgeous and I can't tell why.

'Nope.'

For once he doesn't persist.

'What are you doing up here, anyway? _A_ and _E_ remember? _A_ and _E_ and not Ba-by.'

He laughs at my ridiculous rhyme which is good because I laugh at it too though it's really not funny, it's a fake laugh. Like a laugh of acknowledgement.

'Research for the neo-natal unit. It meant I had to talk to some families.'

One of the children has woken up but the cries are muted by the glass. A nurse rushes in to soothe her but she's doing a shit job. Lifting the child in solid arms, she rocks her a little too hard and leaves rashly through the door.

'Dr. Cullen.' She greets, walking behind to place the child in the mother's arms.

Oh.

The squaking instantly stops and recognising the touch and the scent of its mother, she cradles into her skin. I'm trying not to stare but it's a beautiful moment and kind of magical to watch. I haven't seen a baby that small since the twins were born…and even then their arrival was a little…unexpected…considering my dad's bollock cancer and all.

'So just research? No one-to-one interviews?' I ask with a smirk, tearing my eyes from the scene to his face. He's looking in that same direction, his eyes are heavier, and he's going to be dead to the world the moment we get home.

'Some…' He admits with a smile. 'Did you want meet them?'

I raise an eyebrow.

'Well, _one_ ,' he corrects. 'He's a few days old but no family have claimed him. He was left in the waiting room downstairs…'

My mouth falls open in horror

'Abandoned?' I say, looking neither at the children or him but rather at a nurse who is giggling to her friend. I can't tell which one of us she's laughing at but I know she's staring at us. This is why I hate people….

'Yeah, abandoned.' He says softly. 'There's a bit of a fight going on with Social because we don't want to discharge him at the moment but they're eager to get a move on. Apparently the ' _young market well'_.'

'That's disgusting.'

'It's their words…'

I pause, feeling a little sickened. But his smile lightens things up. 'Come on. You'll love him.'

But I hesitate. 'Will I be allowed?'

I am allowed. I don't know how he manages it, probably just flashes his eyelashes a little, but simply by asking they let me in. It's sadder than expected. For some reason the baby is in a room all on his own away from the other children. He's not as small as some of the others but he's definitely not big either. He's got a few wires hanging around his little fingers and one attached to his chest though Carlisle keeps reassuring me he's doing well.

'Can I touch him?' I ask quietly, feeling myself well up for no real reason. He looks to the nurse in charge who simply smiles and returns to her paper work. He nods his head and pulls me closer to the cot with him.

'I call him JD.' Cullen whispers after a second and when I laugh I realise there's tears coating my cheeks.

'Why?' I ask tentatively reaching out to stroke his tiny little palm. My fingertip never looked so huge. But JD has barely noticed, he continues to breathe sleepily, his little cotton chest rising and falling.

'John Doe for unknown but _JD_ for short.'

'It's cute.' I admit, making sure I'm even lighter with my strokes. He's so small. Standing closer though I see his mouth is open where he's so peaceful. ' _He's_ cute.'

The nurse doesn't look up from her paperwork but her tone is clear as a bell. 'You can hold him if you want, Dear.'

My eyes nearly pop out my skull. Cullen's too.

' _Really_?'

'Sure. Just don't tell them _bigshots_.' She winks at Carlisle and then, realising that its _Carlisle,_ comes over to lift JD to anyone's open arms. He steps back a little.

'You're the baby expert.' He says quickly though he's still hovering close by, wanting to be a part of the action

'Because I'm a woman?' I complain.

'Because you grew up with children.' He answers. The nurse lifts the sleeping child into the cradle of my arms, carefully moving the useless wires, and then helps me to sit on a seat behind. For a moment I don't know what to do. Until Carlisle settles close to my knees, stroking the baby's arm.

'He's like a little radiator.' I whisper, in order to not disturb. I loosen my grip, trying to make my arms an even better comfort for JD.

'He's clearly exhausted. Has he had a lot of visitors?'

'Too many and yet never enough.' Replies the nurse. She watches the both of us like it's a film scene and smiles. 'You know, you're the first non-medical professional to hold him?'

'I am?' I say in surprise. He's such a perfect little arm decorator. He's so warm and soft and he smells like baby-powder and cuteness.

'Potentially excusing his mother.'

'He's a hit with the nurses.' Carlisle whispers and for a second, the child responds to the sound of his voice and stretches towards him. As expected, he freezes a little.

'I think you've got a fan.' I tell him.

'I think he's awesome.'

'No, Carlisle. I meant _he_ likes _you_. He's gripping onto your finger pretty tight.'

He smiles a little, clearly shy but then clearly pleased. 'I guess he is, isn't he?'

'Why don't you hold him? He clearly wants you.'

He turns as pale as the white washed walls.

'Me? No, I'll drop him. You keep a hold of him.'

'You'll be fine, come here. Take my seat.' I'm already standing up, the child safely in my arms as Cullen essentially has a two-second meltdown.

'Honestly, you hold on to him. You've got him, I don't want to hurt him.' But I've somehow managed to manoeuvre him into the chair. 'I thought you were enjoying the cuddle?'

'I am, but now my arms are dead and I'm crying.' I'm not exactly sobbing but my eyes are making it hard to see. He grimaces at me but stays seated. 'Here hold out your arms. Try to be soft.'

He all but freaks out up until the second the little pink thing is placed warmly in the crook of his elbow. Then he breathes and simply falls for the guy.

'He _is_ quite warm, isn't he?' He comments with a goofy smile. I take a seat on the floor and rest both a hand and my cheek onto the knee just below where the baby is, gazing warmly at the two of them.

'And soft.'

'Soft, too.' He agrees with an amazed smile. I stroke the hanging cotton leg by Carlisle's thumb, the baby's that is, and feel my heart melt all over again when my flatmate starts to introduce ourselves to the child.

'See JD, all you need to do is make sure you're in _your_ right lecture, let a drunken art-fresher mistakenly take a seat, try to help her out and get yelled at. Voila. Flatmate.'

'Oh that _so_ did not happen!' I say grinning, watching his smirk grow.

'Don't even deny it. I have eye-witness accounts. Don't I, JD? Yeah, see. That's why you _keep_ the paper aeroplanes people throw at your head.'

'I threw an aeroplane at you?'

'You did.' He confirms with a grin.

'Sweet! I'm normally rubbish at making those! Do you still have it?'

'Somewhere…' He says nonchantly but the smile on his face and the type of smile suggests he knows exactly where it is.

'You'll have to show me sometime.' I say softly, still trying to decide who to dedicate my eyes to. The cute as hell child or the cute as hell Cullen.

'I'll do it instead of packing.' He replies playfully and from there we spend a few more silent minutes in awe of this wriggling child.

'You suit Kids, Carlisle…' I whisper eventually, making sure to keep really still as I put my chin on his knee, eyeing the two of them together.

'I do?'

'You do.' I promise warmly. 'You're made for them. You're a natural.'

He grimaces a little before shaking his head. 'I can't imagine that being the case…' He replies, embarrassed. He scrunches up his nose and sighs, his expression turning sad.

'Why? Too stuck on your bachelors lifestyle?' I tease with a wink. He simles but doesn't look up from the bundle in his arms.

'I can't have children, Esme….'

'You can't…' But the words leave as does my dignity. 'Oh _Carlisle_ , I'm so sorry.' Without any warning at all, the hand that was stroking the child's foot has fallen to his thigh and with an alarmed but sorry expression, I squeeze his leg just slightly.

He shrugs and then panics when the child in his arm moves. But all is settled with a second.

'Don't be, it means I'll be the fun rich uncle who gets people out of trouble and such.'

'I could do with one of those,' I mutter but he winks at me with his right eye and grins.

'You won't need one. I'm up for hire. _Your_ kids will love me.'

Suddenly the idea of children, a once obvious life long dream, feels completely void of purpose.

'What about if I don't have them? Look at my track record for this week. How could I possibly be trusted to be responsible for someone else?' Ever.

I've completely forgotten the nurse is in here with us, but it's fine because she seems content with her paperwork, totally nonplussed by us. Carlisle is fighting a grimace.

'Okay firstly, this week hasn't been-' He stops and makes a face.

'What?'

'My pager is buzzing.' He complains softly.

Out of nowhere the nurse has appeared at our side and before I'm ready, I'm being pulled up and our comfortable little friend is being taken from trusted arms and now I want to cry.

'Now?'

'I'm really sorry Es, maybe we'll come back another time?'

'He's expected to be adopted by the end of next week, Doctor Cullen.' Says the nurse, soothing the now disturbed child and preparing to change him.

'Oh.' Is all he says. But it's better than me. Even though JD's still crying and screaming, I stroke the kid's little forehead and wave my goodbyes.

'Good luck, Sweetie.'

'I'll be up before my shift ends.' Cullen decides, looking earnestly at the nurse. 'Just because I won't get chance next week.'

'I understand.'

But he has to tug me out there because I'm so reluctant to leave.

* * *

'Are you okay?' He asks once we're back in the lift. He's retying his black tie around his neck but he's getting it all wrong, so I try to help him out. In reply, I simply nod. 'I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd be so sad…'

It's only then that I notice I have water streaming down my face again and my eyes are refusing to take control. Though he's not crying, he looks as conflicted as I do.

'He's just so tiny, Carlisle. Why would anyone want to leave him?'

As expected, he takes a few moments to contemplate the answer but nothing springs to mind so in a mix of frustration and confusion, I'm assuming, he folds me into a warm hug, wrapping both arms around my shoulders and keeping me tightly there. I encase both arms around his torso and squeeze a little. I'm lucky that the first scent that overwhelms me is his aftershave. Followed by the sting of science.

'At least he'll have a home by next week?' He tries to reassure. 'They'll be a lot of desperate families out there looking for someone like him to compete the unit.'

'Like you?' I ask cautiously. I think he's going to stiffen but instead his relaxed posture goes a little more aloof.

'Maybe, yeah?'

I could live with that.

Carlisle doesn't let me go for a long time and I'm just as reluctant to face the cold of the atmosphere but it soon becomes abundantly clear we're missing something.

'We haven't pressed the button, have we?' I realise after a moment. I feel him chuckle around me, the sound running over my skin like a warm shower. He breaks us apart to lean over and press the button.

While partly staring, I catch a glimpse of our reflections. I'm messier than he is, as expected. My clothes and the expression of my face still has that chaotic look which has seemed to become part of my face. My hair is all over the place, my face is red and sore, I'm leaning at an awkward (and painful) angle and it's pathetically clear I'm not okay.

I'm not okay.

Though it can be said with utter conviction that I'd be worse but for the saint in the space. He's caught me staring at myself and smiles a little more determindly.

'Your hair is pretty today.' He murmurs shyly.

My hand stops fussing with my wet eyes and moves automatically to pat the ends of the locks where they're curling up from my chest. I half smile.

'Really?'

'Mm-Hmm.' He confirms, lifting a few strands to have them wave in his palm.

'I was thinking of putting it up.' With a loose grip I grasp the mass and hold it around the back of my head so that it's out of my way. 'What do you think?'

Using careful steps, he stands in front, towering over me in a way of undeniable security. That smart mouth of his is curling back into his typical smirk and with a caressing and slow movement, his fingertips follow the route of my wrist until both hands are held over mine in my hair. The proximity means that even with my eyes to his chin and looking up, I can feel his cooling breath making my heart beat faster. I undo my hands, dropping them free and letting them pause at my collar bone while he stares.

He's still holding the majority of my hair up but with a sigh, lets it drop so it flies in awkward positions over my face.

'Thanks.' I murmur sarcastically, pulling a wave free from my mouth.

Carlisle hasn't noticed. He's still staring at waves of my hair as if commiting the sight and texture to memory, letting strands curl gently around themselves. When he finally looks at me, the shock of blue burning into my eyeline, I almost jump.

'If I may?'

'Go ahead?' I say shakily, attempting to stand on my tip-toes to give me the height I would need to- but something's telling to stay still.

He brings his cold hands to the top of my cheekbones, letting the sting of my blush warm them before combing his fingertips through the top half of my hair so that the curls and waves slip down my back like a pre-Raphellite painting. The sound of a moan is trapped in my throat and I hold it there for as long as possible just to give myself the moment to enjoy the pure ecstacy of having his touch so close and so wrapped up in me. I shiver a little, letting a laugh escape as he does the same, the only sound to break the silence.

It's too soon that he detangles his hands and smiles, once more closing an eye at me so that I think I'm about to faint. Then that stupid bloody bell goes off and I realise we're on the ground floor.

'I'll see you at home?' He asks hopefully which is dumb considering it's a gurantee I'm going to be there.

'Sure. I'll be the one passed out on the stairs.' He frowns a little but it's diluted by his amusement.

'Hilarious.'

'And I'll give you Tilly's number.' I shouldn't be mentioning this cow?

He stares at me blankly, thinking for a long moment.

'My work colleague?' I remind him. He winces, his face scrunching up in gross realistion before forcing a grin.

'That would be most kind...?' He guesses, leaning against the mirror so that his back is arched towards me in the sexiest suggestion I think I've ever been offered.

'Hurry home.' I begin to close, walking from the opening of the door to trusted laminate flooring and lingering just slightly.

'Oh, I will.' He promises, his teeth gleaming as he laughs a little. Instead of replying vocally, I take a leaf out of his book, wink at him and leave him in the lift to stare after me, flustered and intrigued.


	23. Reasons why needy is not good

_**I cannot apologise enough for this chapter being a little late, I am ever so sorry but I'm surely hoping it's going to be a blessing. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for your lovely feedback and as ever, I would really appreciate it if you'd be kind enough to leave your thoughts once again.**_

 _ **Just a little reminder- this story is rated M for a reason. As you'll surely come to find out in the next few chapters ;) ;) ;)**_

 _ **Thank you!**_

* * *

Time seems to be moving extra slowly now I'm parked up outside Alice's. I'm dreaming about a boy. No, not a boy- a man. A man with pale skin but rosy cheeks and the light suggestion of a few hidden freckles on the bridge of his nose. I'm dreaming of his perfect teeth concealed shyly behind a wry and charming smile alluding a gorgeously enticing scent. Something like mint and pine all tied in with that official _cleanliness_.

Mmmm...

'Nice to see you got your car back.' Alice greets, jumping quickly into the passenger side.

Her entrance is enough to make me jump. She's glued her hair to the side of her face so that she looks like she's from the 1920s. Except people in the 1920s didn't usually dress as punky as she's looking now. She's wearing a girly band T-shirt (one that's probably robbed from my drawers) with _short_ shorts and royal purple tights. The spiky braces attached around her shoulders and the cuffs on her wrists suggest she's feeling adventurous today. But still gorgeous. I pat the plastic of the mantle.

'She's a beauty,' I agree, proudly turning on the engine.

Alright I've give Blondie this; my crappy little car has been upped several notches and now she isn't just working class, she's full blown British monarchy (excusing her scraped paint marks).

'Did you thank her?'

Alice is great at making me feel guilty even when it isn't needed.

'I will do!' I say, quickly. Mainly because Rose is not the type of person to know what manners are let alone use them. She didn't even reply to my text telling us if she was coming or not. Gah.

'Are we ordering out?' I ask, taking the shorter route to park up to Jasper. Perhaps if I'm running a taxi service I should start charging cash?

At least I don't have to pick up the others; Emmett is going to walk over with the girls later on. Edward is already home, leaving Tilly to make her own way once Carlisle finishes. Or at least what I'm calling her own 'way'. I refuse to dirty my car with that girl's presence.

'Nope, I'm under strict orders to cook tonight.' She says stoically. I instantly whine for two reasons. One: Ordering out was a Friday night thing. Especially with Em involved. Two; Alice's food is…mediocre. I'm no chef but blimey, it was offensive to eat her cooking.

'But Alice! Take-out?!' I say pouting.

'The boys already decided they want fajitas.'

BLERGGH!

'You know I hate fajitas.' I grumble, or rather _her_ fajitas. Yuck.

'Edward said you had your own dinner in the fridge?' She says smartly and with that my grumbling is silenced.

Jasper offers me a warm smile when he jumps in the back, complimenting me on the beauty that is my wheels.

'Thanks. She's just had her maintenance done!'

He congratulates me like a smart arse and makes a few comments over how he's looking forward to chatting with everyone tonight. Part of me is starting to panic over how close he and my flatmate are. The grin suggests he's reading my brain.

'How'd it go with Cullen?' He asks playfully, smirking to himself like I'm some sorta twirp.

 _You just had to, you shit!  
_

Alice pipes up, I shoot daggers in the rear view mirror. FUCKING GODDAMMIT JASPER!

'How'd _what_ go with Cullen?' She asks, intrigued. Her wide brown eyes seem to be growing even wider, like I'm about to get told off. Which is not what I want when she's got spikes on her wrists.

'Don't say a word…' I say robotically, clenching my teeth.

'Jaaaaazzz….' She says, throwing herself backwards to flutter her eyelashes at him. She places a quick peck on his cheek and without hesitation, his mouth moves.

'She brought porn for Cullen,' he says quickly, his shoulders slumped because he's anticipated my explosive reaction.

'Jasper!' I growl. He's so lucky I'm driving or I might hit him one.

'YOU DID WHAT?!'

Thank you, thank you _so much_ you blonde fucking cowboy pussyhole.

'It was just a joke!' I lie, hiding from her disapproval. I'm making sure Jasper can see I'm furious. But like the arse he is, he smirks. Fucking blondes thinking they're angels or some shit.

'You brought _CARLISLE_ porn?! Why, Esme, _why_?!'

Though she's angry, hearing her say porn is funny. She can't even deal with the word condom-though I did think that about Carlisle the other week and now look where we are.

With the very idea of him and condoms as a turn on.

'I thought he'd appreciate it!' My voice is getting awkwardly high-pitched.

'Edward, I'd understand what with Bella- but _Carlisle_?! What on _Earth_ were you thinking?! What does _he_ need porn for?!' She chides, still sounding annoyed.

The urge to yell in her face that Carlisle is the epitome of sex on legs is almost too much. But something stops me. Probably the fact that I don't want her to know how hot Cullen is. I want that to belong to me. However selfish that is.

'I was saving him from blue balls?' I was saving me from blue -urm- ovaries?

Jasper laughs until he sees Alice's face.

'He just looked like he needed a relief…' I murmur, guiltily. Though I'm now thinking that this can also be read as a weird suggestion of jealousy. In fairness, I am jealous. Jealous of how much time some nurse strangers get with him. Jealous of his patients, of his work colleagues. Jealous of the work he's committed to. Seven days is a long time. What am I meant to do with myself?

'Is this before or after you made him check your vag?!' She demands, outraged.

WHAT IS IT WITH THESE TWO AND SECRETS?!

'Alice!' I seethe, indicating her blushing -but still laughing- boyfriend… I'll bloody rip those permed locks right from his fucking-

'It's not like it worked or anything!' I grumble, and my insides grumble too…just needed him out of my system! Or rather in my system? Mmm.

Jasper is still laughing. It's getting on my tits.

'Obviously not!' She hisses.

'But hey, least I know he's straight now?' I say with a shrug.

'You didn't realise he was _straight_?!'

What's the point in talking to Alice if she's going to get mad?! I push my hair back and roll my eyes.

'His girlfriend is coming over today…' I add, shutting them both up instantly. Alice isn't sharing the excited tone I imagined, she's confused, maybe a little annoyed.

' _Girlfriend_?!' She says as if it's a foreign word. From behind, Jasper looks a little horrified. Which is equally as strange?

'Well okay, maybe not _girlfriend_ but my co-worker. She was completely all over him so he invited her for a drink.'

Much to my utter disgust and disapproval.

'We're going for drinks?' She asks hopefully.

'At our house, Dumbo.'

'Did he invite her out before or _after_ the porn incident?' Jasper questions, still chuckling. Shut the heck up, killing my pride.

'Before…' I admit

He laughs a lot louder and so does Alice but they can shut up because we're on the drive and I don't want this conversation following us into the house.

Goddamn the two of them.

* * *

Jasper heads straight for the TV once we're home, Alice for the kitchen where Edward is mid-writing an essay which gives me a few moments to go grab Emmett's DVDs back.

And they're not in the usual space I last put them…I'm dreading going into Edward's room so I find an excuse to look harder in Carlisle's room when blow me down….

I actually find them by the side of his bed next to the laptop.

Gingerly, and I mean gingerly because ew, I open up the disk drive to find one of the DVDs in the slot which is the biggest surprise of my whole entire life. I've opened a worm hole. But my interest burns like an engulfing flame and like a twit, I read the browsers he's got open.

Nope. Nothing. Just things to do with Doctor's shit. But this can't be it? You can't tell me Cullen actually fucking watched a porn DVD?!

So now I don't know what's weirder? The fact he's got them stacked neatly by the underside of his bed or the fact that it looks like… one has been watched? I really should just give him his privacy and return Emmett's stuff... Yet curiosity is my greatest attribute so I go on a miniature hunt for some secondary evidence. It'd be pretty rude if he just disposed of _his_ films, which is essentially what I'm looking for. If he's passed them along to Edward, as I suspect, I'll be fucking furious.

But that wouldn't explain the DVD in the disk drive? Unless Edward borrowed the laptop which is making me want to hurl my fucking guts up.

With that in mind, I wrench Cullen's bedside drawer open. Yes alright, it's an invasion of privacy but the guy hadn't even looked at a girl until this week and I've just _got_ to know. The first thing that I notice is the blotch ink pen, his favourite, is close by the KY jelly. Which is a weird place for a pen to be but oh-well. I look into the tub but I'm disappointed. He hasn't used any yet. Maybe he didn't watch the DVD, then? Maybe I'm literally looking _wayyyy_ too much into this?

Though it is with great excitement I find the handcuffs but I place them back carefully, making sure I check through all the titles of the films to ensure the rightful owner.

The ones I gifted are mainly just lesbian fantasies or guy to girl rather than anything too weird. He clearly hasn't watched my favourite; some kind of 'naughty nurse' role play thing which I thought would be funny. That's not Emmett's though so I can leave that where it is. I go to check the last title on the bottom of the pile when I'm met with confusion. This isn't a DVD?

And it doesn't have a title on it either. It's actually a small notepad, no bigger than A5 with a beautiful, leather casing and crisp cream coloured paper that's thick and smooth to the touch. I guess that explains the pen? So I open it up and nearly implode.

I'm going to fucking kill over, I swear.

The _real_ jackpot.

With utter disregard, I pull the covers apart to give a real show to his ink work, letting my jaw hit the ground as I read. He's a better artist than he would ever admit to either me or Edward. The figures aren't perfect but then they're hardly figures, they're _diagrams._ I think?

They're mainly just blotchy line drawings of the naked human body, which is super weird considering who drew them, but nevertheless pretty. As an artist myself, there is little need to comment. How many times had I drawn naked figures without so much of a battered eyelid? Human bodies were just that. Human. And it made perfect sense for us all to attempt to commit their variety to paper.

Though I am starting to wonder where he's getting his inspiration from unless it was just the porn DVD which is _super_ weird. Since when did Carlisle draw anyway? But I ignore the questions and keep flicking through the pages.

Hey, look some of these have got notes written underneath… That's so….Urm? Unique?

It's while flicking through the racy drawings upon really, _really_ racy drawings (I'm not going to lie when I say I'm starting to sweat a little and my mouth is going dry) that I sense a theme…

It's like he's writing advice? Instructions? Examples? As if- he's trying to teach the theory to making a girl orgasm?

His handwriting is painfully neat, complicating the images, winding my gut up into more guilt and more fizzing emotions when I read the most beautifully written line in the whole of history:

' _Move tongue in circular motions'…._

I'm fucking coming right now, I swear to God.

'Alice says you're taking ages- oh you're in here?' Jasper's standing in the doorway of Cullen's room frowning at me as I sit in front of my new found treasures, breathing hard.

'Emmett says he's on his way and Carlisle- hold on. Are you _alright_?' He stares curiously, breaking his usual stone face (as in looking, not literally), with tones of confusion.

'I'm fine?' I say slowly, trying to calm my excited heart. Though that's not the _excited_ thing which needs calming...I'm in _definite_ need of a shower. Seeing Jasper however is definitely an unfortunate cold bucket to my tingling nerves.

I try to cough normally but it's hard when your mind is distracted.

Hard. Eurgh- what the fuck is Carlisle doing to me?! But I guess if he's attempting to learn the basic theory to sex then that means he's comfortable with the concept? Maybe I should buy him Johnnies too? Maybe I should say fuck it and jump on his cock?

'You're blushing.' Jasper says suspiciously, it kind of helps bring me back into the present. And it's kinda reminding me that if I want what I know I want, then Jasper better get outta my sight ASAP before he ruins it all.

'Whatever- Tell Alice I'll be down in a second, I'm going for a shower.' I murmur with a shrug, playing the nonchalant fool and dismissing him downstairs as quickly as possible.

* * *

I can't explain the jittery sensation running through my veins as I let the steam of the shower cloud up in the bathroom but I decide to embrace it. Shoving up my hair and climbing into the stream of water, I delicately wash over my naked skin with not _my_ soap but his.

With the drawings and the casual thought of Cullen and porn playing on my mind, things heat up quickly.

The scent of his soap is making my head spin. It's on my neck, over my shoulders, around my tits as if Carlisle himself is standing behind me, shrouding my nudity with his indulging amazement. It's a hot idea, greatly inspired by his art. Cullen, as naked as I stand now, his tall and muscular body behind mine, his arousal thick, pushing against my hip as he puts that smart mouth to work on kissing along my collar bones.

But his hands would be the heaven.

I can see how they would replace mine, skirting over my breasts, rubbing over my hardened nipples slipping down to where I'm wet with a different kind of moisture. I hiss as the movements increase a little, slipping in and out of my slick folds, slipping all over so that I fall to the wall for support.

But the wall bears against my bruised backside so that now I'm hissing out of pain. I try to ignore it, focus on my excitement and what I could see to be his, letting myself almost feel Carlisle using his left hand. There's electricity running through my nerves, my teeth sink into my bottom lip where I feel the cut from yesterday.

That's two injuries so far.

No, stop it. I'm not thinking about this, I'm enjoying myself. I'm rubbing uncoordinated circles into the top of my pussy, close to where my clit is without quite touching it. Teasing myself. But I'd tease him too. I'd wrap my legs around his calves and push him to the wall so that his erection is against my stomach. All I'd have to do is touch him and he'd groan.

My own hand increases with the series of false images that spring to mind. Letting the idea of him touch me as I rub myself against the sensation. He'd throw his head back to the wall with a shudder, pushing his wet hair out the way of his eyes so he could watch me grasp his firm shaft. Taunting him with an agonisingly slow movement, stroking the skin. A grunt would leave his open mouth, much like the silent ones falling from mine right now, and he'd throw his head back again in ecstasy. Those hips of his would start to meet the thrust of my grip. His hands would roam my body, pinching delicately, letting me moan in delight.

Perhaps we'd tongue for a bit. My own hot breath would slip from his firery mouth, down his panting chest, following the line his muscles. I'd suck the skin there, feeling him shiver, lowering my mouth to the fine hair below his stomach. I want to picture the look on his face when I take his cock in my mouth. I want to feel him shiver and gasp because of me. I want his slick hands to keep pulsing inside me. I want to scream his name-

But a cold shower of injustice is finally thrown over my shoulders. With the thought of sucking cock, I can't barricade the multitude of scenes from the office today. In horror, I keep trying to hold onto my good thought. The idea of letting Cullen ravish me.

It's too late. In utter shame, my hands stop moving and drop. There's no arousal anymore, no excitement. Just disgust. My stomach hurts. My ass hurts. My lip hurts. My thigh hurts.

Everything is tainted.

The water continues to rain down on my body no longer seeming like the rush of anticipation but rather just washing away the sins. Without much washing.

Ruined.

Unsatisfied and feeling too panicky to stop the images at the office from haunting my every thought, I scrub at my skin and climb out the shower to stare at my reflection for a second time today. I can't see how it pleased me earlier. I'm currently disgusted. Made worse of course by the purple bruise on my rear.

I dry quickly, miserably, in something simple like jeans and a t-shirt that doesn't belong to me but at least the smell is making me feel better. I decide to pull the sides of my hair up so that the loose waves of this afternoon are once more cascading down my back just as Carlisle had arranged. I pull a few strands loose, rub my face with moisturiser instead of make-up and rather than pull on stilettos, I grab fluffy socks and pull them up my ankle.

* * *

Alice frowns at me when I enter the steamy kitchen. Cullen's plain white T is clearly too big for me and keeps slipping just slightly off my shoulder like some sort of 80s outfit. Which explains her disapproval, I guess.

'You look…homely?' This isn't compliment.

'Thanks.' I murmur quietly, taking one of the stools by Edward. Shrugging, she reimburses herself in the focus of her crap cooking, helping herself to every cupboard she can lay her tiny hands on.

I can't stop thinking about the office. And worse than the office: the fact that Tilly saw- _everything_.

Several minutes pass before I realise Edward is also frowning at me.

'What?'

We're both surprised by my impatient tone but I don't have the energy to explain myself. Or do anything. All of a sudden I just want to curl up and sleep.

Why does shit like this take so long to hit?

'Are you okay?'

'I'm…' As guessed, I'm about to say that disgusting word when I realise if I do, there's going to be a fuss made. Alice is in the room. She's familiar with girl code and considering even Cullen refuses to accept it at times, I know I won't get away with it here. 'Yes.' I reply instead.

'Sure?'

'Why?' I retort pathetically, rubbing my eyes as if to answer that I'm tired but something about it is weird. I think I've just stolen one of Carlisle's moves?

'You just look a little…?' The expression on his face suggests that for once he's favouring the safety of silence rather than the teasing of a teenager. He seems concerned?

'What, Edward?'

Alice has turned to watch at the both of us, as if offended over her own lack of attention. I try my best to perk up a little but I really don't feel like it.

'You look gaunt?' Alice realises. I glare at her.

'I was gunna say _distracted_. And not in a good way.' You can read in his face that he's just about to give a childish wink (dedicated, as guessed, to Cullen) but decides against it. Wise move. I'm not going to chase after him or hit him or even hurtle abuse. It'd be nice if he didn't take advantage.

'Stressed.' I reply honestly and part of my body sighs in relief when he grins and throw his hands to his laptop.

'Tell me about it. Fuck essays.' The hard shape of his jaw takes over from my own selfish thinking and I give a moment to appreciate he is genuinely trying.

'Don't worry about it now, Edward. You've still got time.'

'That's what I said last week, though!' He complains, loosing his hand beneth the chaos of his copper hair.

Despite my mood, I smile a little. 'Just, chill out. You're not going to get anything done by now.'

He sighs and accepts my words without much deliberation. Closing the lid of the laptop, he moves to grab three large glasses and fills them with a spirit and a mixer from the top of the fridge.

And guess who he gives the largest glass to.

'Thanks, Kid.' I take my glass, place it in front of me and let Alice take heed in whatever conversation she's trying to have while Edward bounds out the room, clearly happy to be wasting his time with Jasper and the TV instead.

* * *

For a while, I just let her fill the silent air with useless chatter. This changes within a moment or so, however. Alice is my best friend. One of them at least. I have every responsibility to be involved in her day. So I take an active role in helping with dinner, using the _correct_ ingredients till the pan is smelling gorgeously spicy. The pint glass of my spirit, I'm ignoring.

Before long, there's the heavy thump of Emmett's fist banging on the door and I hear the two boys in the living room cheerfully greet their buddy like we're at a hockey match.

Rose and Bella come through the alcove of the kitchen door, semi-dressed up but surprisingly happy to see us. Perhaps they're drunk already?

Bella has her hair in a classy plait clipped to her head like a handmaid. She's wearing jeans, skinny dark ones like me, except she's been brave and worn a fancy top that, _tries_ , to show her 'cleavage' with tall blue heels. I can't imagine what to say of Rose except that she could wear a bin-bag and out dress me. Her make-up is dark with a risky red lip, suggesting Emmett is getting lucky tonight. Her hair is long and straight and her outfit, though a summery looking dress, seems surprisingly to fit the casual theme of everyone's clothes.

'Thanks for my car.' I say as a greeting because I really am grateful and I need to get that out before I look like a sulky ballsack.

For once, she smiles and nods in acceptance.

'Old but a classic.'

Ouch.

'We basically had to gut her insides and re-work her completely. She pretty much had gender reassignment surgery. How on earth were you letting that guttural engine get you anywhere?'

I laugh and roll my eyes. 'I'm very grateful. How much do I owe you guys?'

Both she and Bella frown at me.

'Carlisle didn't say?' Bella asks confused, she looks to Rosalie who is glaring at her and then smiles at Alice who has a bit of a blank expression on her face.

Like they're all silently communicating?

'Say _what_?' I ask slowly. Maybe this is why she's blank. Maybe she's afraid I'm building up a temper to unleash.

'He's paid in full? Told us-… _oh_ wait.' Bella's cheeks seem to darken in colour and with a panicked expression, she gnaws at her lip. 'He might've have asked us not to say anything?'

'Great one, Holmes.' Rosalie mutters, looking at Alice who is suddenly giggling.

'Oh God. Please don't tell him- just forget I said anything. Maybe he didn't pay? Maybe it was a mysterious-'

'Shut up, Bella.' Rose murmurs and out of nowhere, we all burst into laughter at her expense.

For the moment, I don't know whether to be pissed or not. Usually I would be but I guess if he's tried to conceal his purchase- WHY AM I MAKING EXCUSES FOR HIS VALEDICTORIAN COMMENTS ON MY SEX?! And why am I feeling exceptionally giddy at the mention of his name?! I live with this guy?!

Emmett comes chanting through the door then, thankfully, Jasper and Edward in tow, singing some drinking song with an unfortunately loud tone.

'Aaaaand when we drink with Esme, she downs it all in- _hey_.' His song ends quickly and he points an excusing finger at me. 'Where's your drink?'

I roll my eyes and nod to the table.

'So-help-me, that better be your third. Check out the luggage!' He throws said 'luggage' onto the counter and grins so wide I think his face is about to split. The luggage is about 6 bottles of spirits, 3 tiny bottles of mixer and a cheeky bottle of fancy champagne which I expect is stolen property from somewhere.

'Let's get pissed!' He roars cheerfully, still pointing a large finger at me and dancing pathetically so that the girls cheer with laughter.

'Alright, who did shots with Emmett?' I complain, watching him help himself to my electricity and insert not only his phone but his speakers as well until music is blaring in my ears.

I have to really hold my nerves to stop myself from yelling at him considering my headache at the moment but then I remember it's only Emmett and as annoying as his antics are, he _is_ only trying to have a laugh. Which is evident in his stupid dance moves. I take over once more from Alice who's crossed the room to snuggle up to her boyfriend meaning that as I stir this food, I'm consciously aware everyone is coupling up and it's weird… Especially when the only person I want to couple with has already decided on his person-

Stupid-ass-piece-of-polite-gentlemanly-morals.

'You okay, Es?'

'Jasper if you don't _stop_ asking, I swear I'm going to yell at you!' I mockingly grumble, making sure to smile so that he knows I'm ' _partly_ ' joking. He shrugs and smiles at Alice but there's just something about the way he's staring at me that is making me a little self-conscious. It's like he's pulling a Cullen and reading my every motion.

'Dinner's nearly done.' I inform them, turning down the heat on all the hobs and instructing them to grab a plate and what not. It's good timing. The sound of keys grabs my attention and with my face turned towards his inevitable entrance, I hear him cheerfully sing:

'I'm home!'

He's just shrugging out of doctors jacket as he enters the kitchen, looking suitably gorgeous with a his usual grin and his unusual ragged locks. It's a look I neither expected nor fail to appreciate.

'Smells good.' He praises, making sure to do the round of miniature greetings. Chatting with Edward about a car piece, complimenting Rosalie on her jacket as brought by Alice, informing Bella about her father's colleague, discussing news with Jasper and teasing Emmett, all in one.

 _Finally_ , he sidles up beside me, his breath in my hair and his chest close to my back, peering over my shoulder to check out today's menu. A huge wave of relief falls across my posture and all the frustrations and confusions and damn right feelings of disgust seem to evaporate when I gaze at him.

'You finished early?' I comment, smiling shyly as he stands closely to my side, fascinated by the actions of my hands. It's a shame I can't recapture this moment and rewind back to my shower scene.

'Great surgery!' He says proudly and when I finally turn towards him, the whole expression on his face is relieved excitement. He's so gorgeous.

He leans a hand across to grab whatever food in reach but I gently swat him away.

'Hey,' he whines sounding so many years his junior. He knows what I'm going to say.

'You're still in your work stuff, go get changed and we can eat.'

'Es! I'm _starved_!'

'Go on, dinner can wait.' I say cheekily.

He frowns before heaving up a sigh and quickly rushing up the stairs, ignoring Emmett's teasing from behind him. It gives everyone else the chance to grab a plate and then a good enough seat in the living room. I follow after with just my drink in my hand. Even though I cooked it, I can't quite bring myself to eat. Not in the mood.

'Not grabbing dinner?' Carlisle suddenly asks, standing in front of me on the furthest side of the sofa as though he's going to sit at my legs. I didn't even see him come back in and now he's standing over me, plate in hand, so that I'm facing his abdomen. Beautiful, _beautiful_ abdomen covered by that gorgeously tight black tee. Though art the _true_ beauty of nature…

'Nah,' I say wrinkling my nose.

'But you _like_ Mexican.' He says disapprovingly. He's smiling though I know he's seen the glass in my hand.

'I'm fine.' I say, with a shrug. 'Not hungry.' Which is partly true.

'But thirsty?'

I watch him, unamused, shaking my head at him. Fuck sake it was one bloody drink and I haven't even had chance to drink any yet! And in one quick swoop, he swipes the glass and places it far above my reach on one of the shelves behind. I briefly forget we're in a room full of people...

'Oi! Give that back!'

'Not until you go get something to eat first.' He says laughing, still making sure the glass is far out of my touch and leaning up. I could climb the guy like a tree but I don't. I frown.

'Cullen.' I grumble.

'Platt.' He says with the same amount of excitement.

Eurgh. Why does he have to be really cute? Why can't he just let me semi-wallow in self-pity?!

'Stop being antisocial. Go grab some food and _then_ you can have a drink.' He says, with a wink.

A wink. A fucking wink. He closes an eye at me. What the heck does that mean?!

'But I'm not hungry!' I complain juvenilely. He shrugs his shoulders, waits for me to stand then steals my seat. I'm muttering under my breath but grab a plate from the fridge and heat it up till its spitting fire at me.

Everyone else has filled their chosen seats, leaving me space to sit on the floor by the television but I'm deliberately sitting in front of Cullen so that he doesn't forget he owes me. Then I set about picking at my food.

'If it makes you feel better…' he murmurs quietly, reaching across to grab his water from the table and seemingly looking like he's saying nothing at all. 'You look very _comfortable_ this evening.'

My face frowns a little and I'm about to comment when he shyly adds; 'Comfortably cute' before putting his glass to his mouth like nothing was said. It's enough to perk me up again.

I stare at him for several moments, my heart both racing and melting simultaneously and then with pink cheeks I look over to the group. They haven't even noticed. They're all chatting about some university thing while I grin like a moron. So I just lean into the vacant spot of his legs and appreciate the limb that hangs by my side. He's wearing his favourite jeans.

'I heard we're expecting a guest?' Edward says, causing a mess on his plate as he takes a huge bite out of his food.

Cullen smiles, a tight smile and nods.

'Yeah, Esme's work friend…' He says quickly.

'Oh _no_. You're _not_ putting this on me! You invited her, you take full responsibility!' I argue, still avoiding the food. Emmett's laughing. Work fiend more like.

'I was being polite!' He defends weakly.

'No, being _polite_ would be to leave her alone and not string her along,' I tease, elbowing the leg that's hanging down near me. He's sitting on the other one.

He sighs, ignoring the jeers of the boys and says simply 'Maybe I'm not stringing her along….'

I want to drop my plate.

In fact, I want to throw it at him because after four years, and a good week of having a fucking gorgeous body, he suddenly decides he's going to waste it on Tilly. Tilly?! AND HE JUST CALLED ME CUTE?!

I think my face betrays all because in my peripheral vision I see Alice watching me, confused.

'When is she coming round?' Bella asks, taking a few of the empty plates and putting them in the dishwasher like she lives here. I should say now, I actually really _do_ like Bella, and this only reinforces that love for her. I quickly hand her my plate when I think he's not looking.

'I think I said 7:30?' Carlisle says offhandedly. I reach up on my tiptoes for my glass and manage to grasp it to which he doesn't stop me. Good. With the reminder that Tilly is entering my home I need as much alcohol in my system as I can get.

'Yay.' I mutter, Jasper laughs this time.

'So hold on, _you_ invited a girl round?' Emmett questions, frowning. I know what he's saying, he's all like: 'told you those DVDs would work.'

Well they didn't really?! Or maybe that did? If after all that _research_ upstairs, he does waste it on Tilly-. Holy Hell, I will kick off! Well, I won't _kick-off_ but man, I will be mad! What a waste of a fine ass speci-man.

'I did…' Measured words from Carlisle as he conceals his face once more.

' _Why_?' Emmett persists.

I look up and watch him run his tongue along the bottom line of his top teeth, looking incredibly sexy as he does it. Goddamn, what is with the guy. Being all… utterly gorgeous?

He says something to Emmett with his eyes, something I can't read and then shares his laughter while I grumble about sitting on the floor, about the fact that Tilly is invading my life, about everything I can think of.

To be honest though, we're having a pretty nice conversation. We're all planning a baseball match next week which I'm pretty excited for. I like baseball, especially when we play it together. It'll be fun. I have to tell Bella this like _six_ times but very soon, we all agree it's the best way to spend our time.

'I'm a _fantastic_ pitcher, I'll have you know!' I retort to Edward who's made some comment under his breath.

'More like a fantastic _picture_ , Es.' Carlisle teases and for the moment I forget this isn't meant to be a compliment. The group laughs, I pretend to be annoyed but I'm actually feeling quite content with my neck against the sofa, ignoring issues for tomorrow and commiiting every new detail of his smil to memory.

The doorbell rings and that's when I choose to intoxicate myself beyond oblivion.


	24. Reasons why parties cause problems

_**Thank you soooo much for your detailed and lovely reviews! I'm so utterly grateful and I hope this chapter is just as thrillng and that you'd be just as kind to leave your opinions and thoughts!  
**_

 _ **Also, just a litle side note- I roughly try too aim to post every week or so (give or take a few days). So I am so so sorry for my lateness but I have kinda got a little schedule, still I swear. Haha!**_

 _ **Thank you!**_

* * *

It's got to the point where some shitty little doorbell has me shutting my eyes in worry. There's silence for a moment as everyone stares at each other. Not wanting to open ourselves up to the intruder at our door. Carlisle's white enough in the cheeks that I've come to notice is his face of regret.

My heart genuinely goes out to him.

After a tense pause of us all staring at the Saint in question, he sighs nervously heads over to invite her in. He smiles politely, looking very much like a British employee as he hides behind the open door and welcomes in what can only be described as a horrific accident in a make-up department.

Oh _God_. She's dressed like she's going to a nightclub. A nightclub with a power cut.

Her frizzy blonde locks are curled into tight pinwheel spirals that pull at the extension line of her fake horse hair. She's wearing a _lot_ of make-up, too much really, with her overdrawn sparkly red lipstick and seventy pairs of fake eyelashes. Her black dress is short as a hell, similar to the one I wore last Saturday except mine looked appropriate. She got huge heels, lots of jewellery and quite a bit of older-lady perfume that's making my eyes water.

And Carlisle looks afraid. Good. That's what I wanted.

I look to Rosalie. We share a knowing look, one full of malicious humour but say nothing. Blondie can be fun to bond with in times such as these. Alice shakes her head at the two of us, rushing forward to introduce herself and everyone else, before Carlisle has the chance.

He conceals himself well, smirking at my own laughter, midnight eyes amusedly locked to my face as he deciphers what I'm thinking. But Tilly quickly brings us out of our staring, throwing a tanned hand flat the middle of his chest and _squeezing_. By far the weirdest greeting I've ever seen?

She's not been in our house for two seconds and she's already touching him _wayyyy_ too much.

'Care for a drink?' He offers, leaning slightly on his back heels he reads out what we have.

' _I'll_ take a _very_ large whiskey, thanks.' I say, holding my pint glass up. He apparently forgets she was mid-sentence, smirks and snatches the empty glass from my hand with a grin.

'So what are we all doing?' She asks, a little enthused, a little afraid of Rosalie's glare.

I really am loving that girl at the moment.

'Just catching up really.' I say with a reserved shrug. 'Until Emmett suggested a drinking game...'

'I did?!' He questions, a little excited. Rosalie hits him. 'I mean _yeah_ , I love drinking games!'

'What are we playing?' Carlisle asks confused, I thank him for the drink and take a mouthful, hiding my expression and taking it down as quickly as possible. He's deliberately watered it down because he thinks he's funny. But I don't give a shit. Despite his proud smirk, he still went and got it.

'Yes, Esme. What _are_ we playing?!' Edward this time, oh lighten up, it's just a bit of fun.

'I don't know, we could always do a card-?'

'NO!'

Everyone stares at Bella, a little confused while she hides in her glass of wine.

'Err, that just sounds really boring? Why don't we play something else?' She's not fooling anyone.

'Well as the guest, I propose Never Have I Ever!' Tilly demands, excitedly. She's watching Carlisle, in fact she's staring at him, wetting her lips but he hasn't noticed, he's looking at me, his mouth an enticing smirk.

What are we?! 12 year olds?! Ew no.

'That sounds like fun?!' Alice lies, offering to get the shot glasses and the cinnamon whiskey that stings when you try and shot it. It doesn't take long for everyone to seem enthused. I'm neutral. The game is going to end up like they always do. With a hangover tomorrow.

'Thanks.' Carlisle mutters playfully, deliberately taking a vacant seat next to where I've repositioned myself on the floor. Everyone takes note and huddles around our coffee table. Tilly sits a little too close to him, for me at least, but he fails to care.

'Are you _actually_ going to play then?' I whisper, unable to hide the surprise in my tone. He smiles and shrugs his shoulders, positioning his hand close to mine.

'I won't do the shot but if you'd like me to play, I'll play.'

Jasper gawks at him.

I should be gawking too. The fuck has Tilly done to him?! He's actually going to play a drinking game?!

The stupid questions start as they usually do; Never have I cheated on a test, on someone and all that crap. I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. Three questions in and no shot, that's a first for me.

'Never have I ever had sex at school.' Edward states.

Unsurprised, I take a drink. So does Emmett, Jasper and Alice. Now that, I'm shocked by.

'Never have I ever had sex more than _once_ at school.' Alice says, returning her modesty. I roll my eyes.

'Is this once counted as you only had _sex_ once or you only _met_ to have sex _once_?' I ask, waiting patiently to lift the shot glass to my mouth.

She shakes her head at me.

'Both.' Rosalie says so I take two shots, enjoying the sting of cinnamon through the nose. I'm feeling good. Fight me alcohol.

'Never have I ever been in a police car.'

I take another shot, so does Bella before we all remember her dad is a cop so there goes that tale. Then Carlisle pushes a shot glass towards me.

I stare at him.

'You have _not_?!' I say, watching wide eyed. He smirks, staying tight-lipped. I'm about to take a drink for him when the intensity of his stare stops me.

I have an idea!

'Not puking already, Es?' Emmett grumbles, clearly disappointed.

'Of course not!' Excusing myself from the awkward circle of people I quickly grab one of the alcohol-free mixers from the fridge and bring it out with me. Everybody is staring as I fill several small glasses with the sickly brown fizz.

'There you are, then.' I say, offering a shot glass to our Saint. He keeps his hand out to me in warning when I climb back into my seat, wary of me falling, all the while holding the glass in the same spot with lack of understanding.

'Er, thanks but-'

'Just neck it, Carlisle.'

His pink mouth curves up in my favourite way and he suddenly realises the whole group is staring at him in anticipation.

'I don't-'

Tilly leans closer to him as if she's about to whisper in his ear like a devil on his shoulder but he keeps his confusion on my face.

'Trust me, will you?' I insist, hand on my hip.

He does implicitly and without another pause, he tips the dark liquid into his mouth, swallows quickly and shudders. I'm incredibly flattered.

' _Root beer_?'

'So you can join in.' I say with a shrug. Instead of frowning, which he should do considering he doesn't like the stuff, he smiles more widely.

'If I keep drinking that all night, I'll get a glucose-overdose.' He complains lightly, his perfectly arched eyebrows curving just like his golden fringe over his forehead.

'Think that's the point.' Jasper states obviously.

'Take it like a man.' Emmett agrees, flexing out his large arms and making a face that has everyone laughing. Carlisle simply smiles and nudges my arm playfully.

'Never have I ever been in a police car getting _arrested_.' Tilly emphasises and the shit quality of her questions, and the doe-eyes she's pushing onto my flatmate has me draining my watered whiskey. Alice is smirking at me.

Carlisle reaches to push a glass towards me as well as take a non-alcoholic one for himself. He's waiting for me to go first. I'm still bemused so I don't know whether to drink it or question it.

'When was this?' I try to ask him but he refuses to reply. Instead, the side of his mouth curves again. When offered his statement, he pathetically denies the chance and passes his go.

'Never have I ever been a third wheel to someone having sex.' I proudly proclaim.

All of them, excluding Emmett, take a shot which has me giggling but more surprisingly, Carlisle pushes another one my way and sips at his root beer, pulling a face of dislike once he's completed that.

'You _are_ kidding?!' I can't hold the words anymore, I have to know!

'Hmm?' He murmurs, hiding his expression but not the shape of his mouth. Now I can't be the only one whose interested. This is the saint himself and he's third wheeled someone having sex?!

'When?!' I ask wearily, immediately assuming he's misunderstood the statement. He rolls his eyes.

'You can't leave it there, Carlisle. Come on, spill.' Jasper says, smirking. He sighs once before grinning.

'The Christmas party?' He suggests, leaning against the sofa tiredly. I suddenly realise that the intensity of his focus is somewhat deliberate.

'Me?' I ask confused.

'Oh, I thought the nightclub.' Alice adds. I'm lost.

'Don't remember much from _Envy_ , d'ya Es?' Edward pipes up, laughing louder when Carlisle shakes his head.

'You promised you'd never mention that again.' He murmurs with a gentle warning but a group of them laugh together. I'm clearly in the dark. What the fuck have I missed? Edward shrugs.

'Can someone please enlighten me on _Envy_?' I demand playfully to the group. Three of which seem to understand my point.

'You met someone and proceeded to get to know him… behind the club.' Alice explains quickly. I'm about to make a noise of complaint but Emmett's laughter is distracting me.

I grab another shot glass and raise it muttering, 'sex in the alley' and drink. Tilly loudly giggles the whole time she drinks, which is bizarre considering she wasn't there to enjoy the nostalgia but I don't even care. Is she even old enough to get into a club? Let alone have sex behind it? Who knows.

'You were arrested, I tried to get you out of it and you ended up… _with_ the guy in the police car.' Carlisle talks quickly, trying to cover up embarrassment for both of us by speaking under his breath but I couldn't be more surprised.

'I nearly got you arrested?!' I ask in utter unexplainable joy. Woah, revelations lighting up here.

' _Got_ me arrested.' He corrects with a grin and it's as if he'd said I was the reason he won $4 million dollars.

'Wow, _Cullen_. It's almost like you come running when _she_ calls?' Our guest moans sourly and I nearly fucking implode from the inside out, I swear.

The first thing to be amazed by is that it's not me currently chocking on my drink. It's Edward. Horrified and disgusted and in a state of total abnormality, like the Kid, I just glare at the horse in front as she pouts to my flatmate. He looks equally as horrified.

Cullen? _Cullen_?!

SHE CALLED _MY_ CULLEN, _CULLEN?!_ OH HELL-FUCKING-

'It's more like speed dial.' Carlisle diffuses playfully. 'For emergencies.' He adds, shrugging and though he's shying away from her snooty looks, his face is far too flushed to be comfortable.

' _Cullen_?!' Edward finally wheezes out, rubbing around his neck as he gasps a little, relieved for air. Alice is gently patting his back but he's looking to our guest, enthralled.

'What? I can't have a nickname?' She giggles, looking only at my flatmate and running a hand along his shoulder like they're a fucking thing?

EW.

I don't even think, just grab the nearest bottle and fill my glass up till the liquid is spilling over the top. Cullen knees my leg but it does little in bringing me back to the present.

'Urm, well. I guess? It's just-'

'Not _that_ , though!' Edward intervenes, saving Carlisle despite his obnoxious grin. 'That's like an _Esme_ -thing.'

Despite how annoying he can be, I'm incredibly flattered by Edward's attentiveness today. It's verging on kind. Tilly flashes her heavy eyes first at him, then to me. I'm reminding myself that I don't want drama and how I'm doing that is by drowning myself in all this liquid.

'Oh yeah-. You've only made it when Es has granted you a nickname. Hey, Hon?'

This time it is me who splutters up my drink but that's only because he's just 'pet-named' me in front of all these people….When I've professed myself to not be a 'pet-name' person…

'Do I have one?' Rose asks, intriqued as she takes over the limelight. I realease a breath I didn't realise I was holding.

'Nothing original.' I murmur apologetically. 'Just Blondie…' And occasionally Ballbag but I feel like it's not a crime to omit that part.

'And me?' Bella is giving me a friendly but awkward smile. I look to Carlisle who has relaxed for the second and watches my reply with eagerness.

'Err. Just Bella?'

An instrumented coughing fit from Edward.

'Alright, so I can't say your name without singing it. Nothing special.'

'You _sing_ my name?' She seems flattered. She shouldn't be. The way I sing her name is in the same tone that Carlisle and I use to tease Edward. I nod.

'And-'

'Oh for Fuck sake, if I have to do the rounds, I'll do them. Emmett is usually just Em or something pathetic like Fresher because-' I slow, realising how badly this could be taken. 'Coz, he's quite urm…simple?'

Laughter. Thank fuck.

'Jas is just something along the southern route. Usually cowboy or whatever. Alice, you know yours is Pixie and Edward- well, I guess it's how pissed off I am with you.'

Edward grins proudly and nods to Carlisle. 'See, we're special because we have more than one.'

'Hardly call that special rather than a pain in the ass.' I retort quickly. He smiles so that both eyes close and pushes his glass to Carlisle's water in a congratulatory manner.

'You can tell who runs this place.'

'Never doubted it, Kid.' Cullen replies and they clearly share some joke which is meant to be playing on my Reign of Terror.

'So go on then, Esme. What's mine?' Once again, I've forgotten about the inevitable squawk in the room and shrug slightly.

'Urm? Yours?' I repeat delicately.

Carlisle's eyes widen and in an effort to hide his grin, he drains the contents of his glass.

'Well, don't I need one as part of the group?' She insists, drawing attention to her open chest by fiddling with her dress strap.

PART OF THE _WHAT_?!

'Never have I gotten an STI.'

' _Emmett_! Fucking hell. Way to kill the mood.' I whine but I'm so utterly relieved for the distraction that I'm thinking about repaying him in millions of sports game tickets. That's until I realise everyone is staring at me, waiting for me to drink.

'Oh my God, guys! That's so rude!'

'I'm sorry Es but you do give off an impression-'

'JASPER!' I yell, offended.

'That's not fair, Jasper. If anyone's promoting safe sex, it's Esme.' Carlisle defends, quickly restoring my nearly harmed honour.

'Thank you, Carlisle.'

'And there's actually no better birthday gift than condoms?' Edward adds, raising his can of beer in a salute. Emmett is nodding in agreement.

And of course, our stranger of the group thinks she's taking the perfect time to conceal her shot but she hasn't. When I look round to Rosalie, I realise her eyes are nearly falling out her skull and the reason why is because she's staring at the pushy behaviour of the intruder. All I know is that after that shot, there is no way in hell I'm letting her even breath too much on him.

However, it isn't long before our once excited game is getting incredibly boring with only one person taking a drink, the weirder the statements get. I am that person.

'Sex on a roof?!' Rosalie demands, amazed.

I groan, taking another one. But I know I'm fine because, despite his smile at my expense, Carlisle is keeping a watchful eye on every drink I gulp and offers, at every oppourtunity, to share his water with me. Which is also not great because I'm drunk and I'm sadly staring at him because he's so fucking gorgeous and so sweet and he makes me feel…

Urm, good?

That's while sitting next to his 'date', of course. Stupid alcohol, stupid Cullen, stupid slagish me, making myself look even worse while this total cow eye-fucks my favourite person!

'Sex in the woods?' Jasper asks, I'm suddenly aware everyone is watching me now, including Tilly, waiting for me to give in.

Hmm. I drink again. With a hysterical laugh, Alice lightly head-butts the table.

'In a parents bed?!' Edwards asks, exhausted by the questions, I am too. All they ever centre around is sex. It's never any cool questions like; never have I ever stolen a car. Which I haven't, Alice has.

I'm about to reply when I realise Carlisle is chuckling to himself, apparently thinking of last week. His inability and his heavy efforts to keep his amusement concealed is making me also giggle. To the point that we probably look incredibly suspicious and somewhat weird.

He rubs his unshaven cheeks with one hand, his shoulders shaking a little with a new laugh every now and again.

' _My_ parents or someone else's?'

My Saint snorts with laughter and then tries really hard to seem a little more composed as he 'awaits' my answer.

'Any.' Edward whines, shrugging.

And down goes another drink into my little fountain of regret.

'In a moving vehicle? In a car? An aeroplane?!' Bella asks, throwing her arms up in defeat.

I roll my eyes, noticing Emmett's amusement, and go for another little neon cup, Carlisle puts his hand on mine to stop me.

'Why don't we play another game?' he says gently, interrupting my slurring. Thank fuck for that. I thought I was going to pass out from boredom.

Like everyone here, I don't want to play this boring game and despite my sore ass, (which I miraculously seem to forget about the moment I'm with Carlisle), I'm feeling reclusive. Like I want to curl up with a book and a warm fire- Or maybe just curl up with a warm person?

* * *

Very soon, we seem to abandon the table in front and resort to adult conversation. Which is pretty hard to do with a slaggy prebescent in the room. Tilly doesn't go to college. Her life is the coffee shop, she wants to be a dancer but wouldn't be hired for a strip club. She admits to a distracted Carlisle that she could wrap her legs around anything but he doesn't even blink, he just nods and turns to me with the intention of being polite.

'Es, you were a dancer when you were younger, right?'

I'm surprised he's sweet enough to remember this, and the various other random knowledge he's acquired of me over the years, but because I don't want to get involved with the conversation, I simply nod. He sighs tensely and places his left hand behind the back of his head, rubbing his hair down, his side open to my position.

So it's while in my stage of slight dizziness that I choose to watch them. And I'm beaming.

As expected, he can't and hardly looks at her. He is polite at all times. Smiles often but says little, always preferring to jump into someone else's conversation. As he does to Bella's right now, despite the fact she's wasted. He's stiff in his posture, he's got the leg closest to me on the floor while his right knee is up like a sort of barricade, stopping Tilly getting nearer. He's done it unconsciously however. That's what makes it so funny. He looks tired, and hides his yawns with great difficulty but I can see it, I could read how he felt without the pleasure of even seeing him.

He wears his whole system on his sleeve and it is painfully clear, he is as uncomfortable by her presence as we are drunk.

Tilly is something else. She's almost trying to curl into him but his position forbids it. She's holding her arm close to him but because he's leaning forward, she's not touching him. She's pushed her chest upwards (and to commend the girl, she's held the pose for a good few hours), tried to elongate her legs and is breathing all over him, only facing him while he addresses the whole room.

They're in opposites and for once, the opposition isn't working out.

This pleases me to no end.

'SOooo,' Alice sings drunkenly, clambering around the table to push her way between the space by me and Edward.

'You're drunk.' I whisper to her, giggling a little so that her she scrunches her nose up in slow motion, her hands wobbling about in front of her.

'I am but _shhh._ ' She puts a sloppy hand to her mouth and winks. 'Don't tell my boyfriend.'

Looking over to Jasper and Edward, I find them deep in some excitable political debate about yet another rich guy in power with Emmett. My eyes roll.

'I got your back.' I promise.

She looks proudly at her boyfriend who is looking typically boyish in his intoxication and then turns back to me. 'I'm getting laid tonight.'

'Nice.' Edward and I simultaneously mutter disgustedly, and for a second I think Cullen briefly looks my way.

'Well please be polite and use my floor. I really don't want your…' I stop myself. '…Just keep my bed clean?'

Surprisingly lucid for someone who has done _far_ too many shots this evening.

'We're in your bed?' She realises with a grin. By ' _we_ ', she means Jasper.

'Uh-huh.'

No fucking way in hell, no matter how drunk I am, will I be letting someone Christen Cullen's bed before he gets a chance to do it himself. That's just disrespectful.

'What about you?'

'What about me?' I ask, maybe a little shyly.

'You and Emmett aren't going to a club, are you? _You'_ re not looking for some hook up?'

Jeeeez. And they call me the whore.

'Alice!' I complain with a frown. 'Of course not, look at what I'm wearing!'

Without understanding why, I turn instinctively to my right to see Carlisle watching the two of us. He's looking a little conflicted again, struggling to voice himself until the words slip out in flurry.

'I think you look…fine.'

'Fine or _Fiiine_?' I repeat stupidly, staring at him with a pathetic grin. He nods slowly, my favourite smirk on his face.

'Don't tell her that, Carlisle. She stole your shirt!'

'Alice!' I whine. Not that she was even aware she was doing it but her wing woman skills were bumming us all out. I say wingwoman but I'm pretty sure Tilly is still-. Ooooops.

'It's okay, Alice. I'm sure it looks a lot better on Es, than it does on me. Besides, she'll be stealing my bed later, too.'

It's amazing how, with one simple sentence, he can turn me from a bitchy cow into a heartfelt romantic. He's unbearable. Alice looks to me with drunken jealousy but for the moment, I'm blinded by adoration.

'How is it fair that your _flatmate_ gives you everything from clothes to bed when my _boyfriend_ won't even share his food with me?!'

Wait- if he's giving me his bed does that mean he's not sharing?!

'That's _your_ T-shirt?' Tilly intervenes, her nasally tone racking into my ears like fire alarm and yet again I've seem to have forgotten that she is kinda meant to be his date.

…But then so has he?

'This ol' thing?' I slur picking at the fabric on my shoulder in _mock_ disgust. 'Nahh, I've been wearing it for years.'

'Doesn't make it yours, though does it?' Carlisle mutters, cocking a pleased eyebrow at me.

'Oh bite me, _Saint Peter_.'

'I've told you before, you keep saying that and I'll do it just to shut you up.' He says with a grin. But something's pulling on his arm and with that realisation, he swallows thickly and lights up like a Christmas tree.

Okay: One, I have never been 'told' before. If I had been ' _told_ ', I can assure anyone that I'd be parading the puncture marks with pride. Secondly- Is he actually _flirting_? In front of people? To _me_?

But I've forgotten to take notice in the fact that Alice is talking because that's the hottest compliment by the sweetest most gorgeous piece of arrogant frustration that I'm ever going to get. I smile guiltily at Tilly, because I am feeling surprisingly bad, and watch as she excuses herself to the bathroom. The look on her face changes dramatically however when she thinks we're not looking…

Carlisle frowns but when he looks to me, a grin takes over.

'Hey _Cullen_?' _My_ Cullen.

'Hmm?'

I've ignored the fact that Alice is still chatting into my ear and lean closer to his warmth so that we're huddled a little.

'You _do_ realise she's gone to have a snoop in your drawers?' I sing playfully, my eyelashes touching the top of my eye socket.

'Huh?' He whispers.

'Your _date_.' The word feels worse on my tongue than the alcohol does. 'She's snooping in your room as we speak.'

Even from where I sit on the floor below, I can hear her feet cross into territory that I can swear is not the bathroom. In fact the sound is coming from right above our heads…right where Carlisle's room is. Coincidence? Of course not.

'Hon, I think you need to slow down. You're getting paranoid.' He teases with another wink. I'm half dying all over again. Especially because I'm drunk. _Hon_. His honey. His sweet _thang_ \- Oh God he's right. I need to lay off the alcohol.

'Don't patronise me Carlisle Cullen. I know what I'm saying.'

'I never suggested, you didn't.' He promises, pushing his new glass of water towards me. I take it gratefully and drink over half. Sighing, I turn towards Alice who is still going off on one. Despite the fact I'm not facing him, we're sat so close together that when I speak, he automatically knows I'm addressing him.

'When can these people leave? I just want to sleep!' I whine gently, leaning until the back of my head rests on that hefty bicep.

Mmm. But he makes my whole life ten-thousand times better when he shifts a little to accommodate me so that we're both more comfortable. I'm lying against his chest, watching Alice without registering the words she's spitting, consumed in my own waves of calm slipping down my spine with every breath he takes.

'Don't say that too loud or your reputation will be ruined, Miss Platt.'

I chuckle lightly rolling my shoulders a little and watching the performance ahead of me. I think she's spewing her guts about one of her lectures but it's hard to focus because a gentle touch is combing through the waves of my hair. Warm fibres of electric seem to race down the back of my spine, leaving goose bumps in their wake and making my eyes seem extraordinarily heavier.

Jeeez, if I knew he was this easy to warm up to, I would've got drunker _wayyy_ earlier.

This time I have to rub my eyes to focus on her point, really trying to summon up some energy. It's a long time before Tilly comes down. So long in fact that Alice has changed the conversation so many times, she's back where she's started and she's going on about how much she loves Jasper.

Last time I'm letting her shot tequila.

'Why don't we go back to Never Have I Ever?' Tilly pipes up from by the stairs. I jump a little at hearing her voice and quickly pull myself up into a more respectful position, away from my flatmate and towards Alice.

The girl takes her cue as quickly as possible and seats herself between me and him. I look to Carlisle who is looking guilty as he tries to lean out of her grip but she's not letting him go far. She legit just went to put her fucking claw on the inside of his leg before he, _thankfully_ , jumped out of his skin and moved.

'We never did finish that game!' Bella says cheerily and all of a sudden I realise Edward is leaning on her shoulder as she strokes his side. When did he move over there?

Carlisle grimaces. 'It is getting quite late?'

'Awww, quit it Cullen. The night has barely started!' Emmett teases with a grin and to start the round he fills up all but one glass with a neat vodka. Carlisle winces.

'Alright, never have I ever done Anal.'

'Emmett- for fuck sake. Stop choosing the obvious!' I whine but from the corner of my eye I can see my co-worker placing her grubby hands on the leg of my flatmate again. It's not the jealousy in my gut or the contempt I have for this bitch seeing as she just wanted a bit of ' _fun_ ', but rather Cullen's discomfort which is winding me up. He's completely tense with his hand hiding his mouth while sitting towards the table in a way that looks painful.

A few of the group take a shot and the circle moves on.

'…walked in on my parents.' Rosalie continues, bored. Bella shudders and takes several shots. I take a measly one and Tilly seems to be wanting competition as she doubles Bella's three. Emmett seems to be finding this whole scene hilarious.

Which is ridiculous. Weren't we done with this game?

'Had sex outside!' Bella says.

I pick up a shot, barely thinking about drinking it but then Tilly's giggling all over him, pushing her chest onto him and I'm so wound up that I swallow it down thickly. It was a dumb idea to continue this game, we're all bored again. To the point where little conversations are breaking out in the group and we're all doing anything we can to avoid saying the usual questions.

'We could just play vodka pong?' Edward suggests.

'That's actually a much better plan!' Jasper agrees and despite my fuzzy head, I love the idea too. It's active, it's better. It'll be fun.

'No! Let's continue this one!' Tilly whines and yet again I glare at the side of Cullen's skull in annoyance. He _had_ to invite her.

'If we play vodka pong, everyone can take part?' Alice suggests, nodding over to Carlisle who hasn't said anything since being split into the further side of the room.

'I have a good one, though!'

'Last one, and we'll move on.' Rose complains, frowning as hard as I am.

Tilly readjusts her dress to hoist it tighter around her 'tits' and flicks her heavy hair over her shoulder. She seems to be looking at me, pushing a glass towards me though I'm too busy staring at the ceiling, thinking of little JD from this afternoon and his little cotton feet. And what Carlisle was saying about children…

'Never have I ever used sex to get my way.'

I'm still not really giving a shit until I realise it's too quiet in the room and I'm being expected to say something. She's glaring at me. So hard I realise she hates my fucking guts. I kinda knew that anyway. Look at how hard she's trying to touch up my -urm- _our_ flatmate.

'What?'

'Isn't it your go?' She says impatiently.

'Oh- Never have I-'

'No!' She interrupts. 'You drink.'

'Huh?' She tries to have a little eye-d show down with me before realising this isn't going to work and so throws her hands in the air, laughing falsely.

'Fine, if you want me to be so _explicit_. Never Have I ever had _sex with my boss_.'

I don't move, just watch her but Cullen is sitting up now staring not at her but at _me_. Excusing my old garage manager, who was another age and person entirely, then no. I hadn't and I wasn't about to drink to my current boss no matter what situation demanded it.

'Well go on, Esme?'

Tilly glaring at me with a look I don't think I've ever seen aimed at me before. It takes me a few seconds to realise it's probably jealousy which is really odd considering I'm nowhere near Carlisle at the moment. Her posture is a little wobbly, especially in those heels and even though she's got a hand on Carlisle's shoulder, he's barely letting her touch him.

'Tilly.' I murmur, reading the distaste in her face, I slowly shake my head, 'Don't.'

'Don't what? We're all friends here?'

No, you're not.

'Stop it.' I say my forcefully. My sleepy nature has abandoned every fibre of my being and with a stuttering heart, I act as if I'm facing a crazy person with a knife.

To be fair, it suddenly felt far more dangerous than that at the moment.

'What does it matter, you're clearly such an _open_ person anyway?'

'Now, now Girls. Chill out.' Emmett starts to say, his jovial smile weakening when he sees my face.

'Don't.' I repeat, stiffly, feeling myself rise into a steep hill of alarm.

'So what if you're a _slag_?'

The ability to breathe is the first thing to go as I feel myself panicking, my chest tightening. I don't know what to do…

'Esme?' Carlisle says quietly, keeping very still as he watches me. 'What is she saying?'

Her giggle is so high pitched and so piercing that it shatters through me twice over.

'Leave it.' I punctuate in desperation but she's got me exactly where she wants me and now I can't move.

'Something to hide?' She says with a laugh.

'I _haven_ ' _t_ slept with our boss!' I seethe, my chest rising and falling so quickly that I realise I'm taking very little air into my lungs. Carlisle has got his dark eyes on my face but he's staring in horror as I feel my world start to crumble.

She giggles, in a chilling manner, and pushes on my arm. I don't know when, but I've suddenly appeared on my feet and the small movement from her hand, despite her height, is enough to make me stumble a little.

'Don't spew that crap, I saw you sucking off the manager earlier today.'

Eight pairs of eyes are locked onto me. They're keeping me in place, forbidding me to move as my whole chest seems to cave into itself. My mouth is just hanging down in devastation, my eyes to the floor but it's when I look up that my face betrays me.

Because that's what his does first.

Void of nothing but desolation and disgust, it's those blue eyes which cause mine to spill over. Like mine, his mouth is falling open but his expression isn't one full of tears like mine is. He looks…hurt. I can't do anything.

So I just grasp the first bottle my hands reach and escape upstairs as quickly as possible. As suspected, I'm in such a mess for a moment that I don't really know where to go, the bathroom, Cullen's room, mine? None of them are good enough, they're all on too much display so instead, I hide out in the airing cupboard in his room, sinking to the floor of the built in-wardrobe and putting my back to the door.

One good thing about being in an enclosed space, it's easier to cry without feeling exposed and even though it's the last thing I want to do, I sob again into my hands and try to drown as much of that blasted bottle as I can get down my throat.


	25. Reasons why parties are problematic II

_**I'm aware this might have been a chapter much antipated so here it is! Thnak you soooooomuch for all your lovely reviews! Please keep them oming as well as your amazing and fantastic support.**_

 _ **All I have to say is there's still plenty to discuss and their night is not over!**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

I'm halfway through the bottle when I realise it's one of the weaker spirits. It would do its job. It would make me forget if I drank it quickly enough. With any hope it might even make me pass out. Especially with my eyes gushing so much moisture despite my need to calm myself and breath like a normal human being.

But I can't even do _that_ right and pulling my knees up to my cheeks, I realise that if I don't stop crying, it's going to be clear where I'm hiding out.

My chest wheezes painfully, sending stabbing pains through my torso that makes me whine but I force myself not to breathe until the water stops. But the more I drink, the worse the pain gets and even though I'm sat in a dark tiny room, I'm so dizzy and upset and wobbly, I can feel myself slurring without speaking.

And all my head wants to do is haunt me with those horrible images. From Sunday, from Monday, from Thursday, all leading up till Today. With me on my knees. That hand on my shoulder. The inescapable feeling of the room.

Much like downstairs. The inescapable judgement of every one of them. _Every_ one.

After 30 long minutes, at which point I'm hoping everyone has left, there's gentle footsteps of the landing. They cross the rooms several times. Getting heavier with panic, creaking worry into the floorboards until I think someone's going to do something stupid and call the police.

Instead, there's a gentle knock on the wardrobe door.

'Esme?'

Instead of replying, I hold my breath and wipe the tears off my sore face.

'It's me,' he murmurs, difficultly which only highlights every reasoning for my he's struggling to even talk to me than this isn't going to be one of those things I can hope he ignores.

He doesn't open the door as I think he's going to do, he doesn't do anything but waits to see if I move.

'Es.'

'Leave me alone.' I hush but even the sound of that is lost in voided darkness.

'Not untill you talk to me?' He returns and it's one of those moments I just wish he'd drop the ego and give me my time.

'I don't want to talk.'

'Fine.' His words are coming out a little more quickly and I imagine the frown on his face turning into a glare as he winds himself up. 'But I can't leave this room till I see that you're- _untill_ you come out.'

It takes a few minutes for me to give in. But only a few. If his words are enough to make me sob, I needed to get the tone out of the way before I drown. With a shaky hand, I slowly push open the door. He's leant up against the wall, staring at my inevitable seating with a blank expression.

'How'd you know I'd be in here?' I ask miserably, letting him help me up out of the dark though it causes me to stumble a few times.

'It's where you'd go in an Earthquake.'

'We don't get earthquakes.' I mutter back.

He shrugs, unentertained, the movement robotic and cold. It's making me well up again.

'Well?'

Maybe his tone is ment to be gntle and we're both misinterpreting it. I still shrink inside myself.

'Well, _what_?!' I snap, my fingers squeezing the neck of the bottle. The sudden movement has caught his suspicion and without even bothering to address himself, he sharply snatches the bottle from my hand and pushes it to the edge of the desk.

'Well say _something_?' He begs, the fury and utter desolation of his temper emotively reaching out to me. I don't come up with anything meaningful.

'Why do _you_ get to be angry?'

This is giving him the excuse he wants to lose his shit. And I can't be bothered to attempt to fight with him anymore.

'Pardon?' Okay, so now he's really hurt. His whole expression cracks.

'You heard me, Carlisle. What reason have _you_ got to be so mad?'

His footing falters a little, as if I pushed him away using the strength of forty mountains, but he tries hard not to sway.

'Why am _I_ mad?'

Uh oh.

'Why am I _MAD_?! Are you kidding me?!'

'Well how should I know- I'm not a fucking mind reader. Am I?!'

Whatever I might've thought about him being a calm and reserved gentleman seems to blow up as he fists his hands in his hair and holds in what only can be determined as a scream. The panicked anger in my attitude seems to tremble beneath his broken exterior.

'Not a mind reader?!'

'For fuck sake Carlisle! Leave it! Just because you want to go screaming after someone doesn't make you some sort of Divine Hero!' I shout angrily, making sure my bite is several notches worse than his. He's pacing in front of me, small and circular steps, rounding to that same position that's going to make him go loopy.

'Screaming after him?! You really think I'm going to scream at your boss?!'

'What am I meant to think with you pacing everywhere?!' I continue to yell, trying to stop myself flounder in emotion.

'You think I'm going to _scream_?! Are you joking?!' Now his voice has reached an unusual octave and throwing as much energy and as much passion into his point- he genuinely loses it. 'Scream at him?! I'm going to rip his fucking teeth out. I'm going to break every single bone in his body and force-fucking feed it to him-'

'Stop being so dramatic-'

'I'm going to be as dramatic as I like. I'm going to pulverise that indisputable insipid-'

'Stop it!' I scream again but my voices catches the wave of tears and out comes the River Nile from my eyes.

'Why?! Why should I stop?!' He seethes, hysterically. 'What right does he have for mercy? Did he stop for you?'

'Carlisle!'

'Well did he?!' He's avoiding looking at me, probably because I'm such a fucking state that any kind of look is going to be disturbing but his lip is pulled over his teeth like he's seconds away from tearing down these walls.

'Why are you screaming at me?!'

I really didn't expect those words to fall from my mouth but they do and they come out in such a cry that I see his shoulders slump. He angles his face towards me, so that the side of his cheek is illuminated by the light. And it looks to me to be resembling a very pink and very harsh hand mark?

'I'm yelling at you because I'm furious!'

The bitterness of his tone is diluted by the volume in which he speaks. He slowly turns to face me straight on, still stood in the middle of the room, away from me. I don't know if that's meant to hurt more than his judgement. It's certainly not the nicest feeling.

He rubs his forehead roughly and then shakes his hand into his hair to try and control himself.

'You stood there and lied to my face-'

'Because I knew this is how you'd react!'

'And you _still_ stand there, crying, like I'm the bad guy and yet again I'm pandering to your tears-'

'Please.' I whimper. His jaw at this moment looks harder than steel, like he could punch him and come off worse- it's not a look I'm used to. Nor particularly like.

'You know what the worst thing is?! It's that if I followed my instinct, if I'd done what I'd set out to do, you wouldn't have been hurt!'

He groans once more and let's himself quite literally, collapse to the floor, his lower back curved against his bed. He's got his elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face as he takes staggered breaths.

'That's a lie.' I murmur.

Beneath the space of his arms, I see him squeeze his eyes shut. I wipe my nose on my wrist and take a tentative step towards him.

' _You_ would've hurt me.' I whisper and it's only down to my intoxication that I can thank these words leaving my mouth. It's silent for a few seconds, the longest seconds of my life to be fair, the only sound in the room being the stumbling air falling from our mouths.

'I know.' He murmurs, regrettably. He inhales widely and directs himself into more of an apologetic look. 'I know I'm doing it now, too.'

I nod, still in a system of drunken unconsciousness, waiting for him to say something better. Waiting for my own brain to come up with something better.

'I didn't…' I begin to say, but the words fall into silence. He looks towards me with a pained expression on his face.

I start again, taking a horribly shaky breath that won't let my words come out clear.

'I didn't want to…touch-'

'Es.'

'Tilly walked in. I didn't want to-'

'Es- stop.'

'I swear, I fought it. I was even yelling and –' I have to stop because his face is heart breaking. He's got both eyes tightly closed and fisted hands into his hair as he breathes shallowly.

'I'm really sorry…' I whisper emotionally. More tears falling over my cheeks.

'You?' He asks, his voice breaking. He's unable to move just yet as he tries to calm down but his shoulders are shaking as if he's cold. Carlisle was never cold. He could never be cold. You didn't ask for comfort from someone cold.

'I didn't want to hurt you….' I confess.

He winces, his eyes squeezing tighter. 'You didn't want to hurt _me_?' he asks, his voice stiff.

Perhaps on a happier topic, the constant repetition of my own sentences would piss me off. At this current moment it's only saddening. Safe to say the utter desolation of his face is doing worse to cripple me.

'You're suffering.' I summise, head tilted towards the side as I try to really take a guess at why he's so angry. Because I lied to him maybe? Reading my confusion, he murmurs out an explanation quickly.

'I'm suffering because _you're_ suffering.' He breathes a little more and wipes a hands down his face but his whole posture softens when he sees my face. 'Come here.'

'Why?' I ask miserably, still crying a bit.

He sighs a little and rubs his forehead. 'Because if you don't I'm worried I'm going to leave this house and do something illegal…'

Wearily, I look at his face. He still looks devastated and infuriated at the same time but his uncomfortable posture is open to my intrusion. My heavy feet almost don't want to move at first. It doesn't take long for me to be overcome with emotion and stumble to the floor right next to him. We're pretty much side to side now despite the large amount of space in his room but I turn a little and lean into his open arms. His breathing is still shaky but his _warmth_ seems to be doing everything it needs to.

The noise in my head falls to silence so that all I'm left with is the safety of him arms.

'He didn't…' He stops mid-sentence and tries again, forcing a neutral tone. 'Has he…touched you?'

I'm thinking about lying again. It's my first instinct but I realise I can't do that. Not anymore. We're past that.

'Slapped my ass a few times.'

He goes stiff. Not breathing.

'But it's fine. It's fine. I promise, I'm fine.' I blurt out quickly, squeezing on his torso tighter and shielding my face. He rubs his hand down my back. Stiffly at first and then more composed, a little needier, too. His grip just as tight as mine as he holds me awkwardly to his side, reluctant to let go.

'I'm sorry for doing this.' I whisper after a few moments.

He sighs tensely, angling his exhausted face towards me so that the unnatural pink stands out.

'I'm praying the only reason you're apologising is because you're drunk.'

'Why?' I ask, frowning.

'Because it's wrong. Why are you sitting here apologising when you're the one that's been-.' He stops once again and groans so that the sound ripples against my hair, I bury myself a little more. 'I don't want you to be bottling this up.'

'Only slightly.' I admit. The alcohol in my stomach seems to be finally hitting my brain and not in a gentle manner. I've got an urge to sit on Cullen's lap which I think he'll kill me for, especially at this moment.

'All I've done this week is cry and sob?'

He winces again, his chin resting on the top of my head.

'Don't be like that, you make me feel better.' I murmur gently, a tiny smile biting at the corner of my mouth. He's not impressed.

'Stop, Esme.'

'I'm being serious!' Out of nowhere I pull myself up and put an unstable hand to his shoulder to shake him gently till he's looking at me. 'Why do you think I never want to talk to you about it? You make me forget.'

Mostly.

He raises an unamused eyebrow, his mouth in a hard line as he fights with my flattery.

'Stop looking at me like that, Cullen. I'm not lying.'

The sharp line of his jaw is suggesting he's gritting his teeth.

'What?' I ask, sitting up on my knees.

'How can you do that?'

'Do what?' I ask with a smile. He groans again.

' _That_! How can you go from crying to giggling the next minute like it's nothing?' He might look wound up though it can be promised he's far worse than that. I've never seen him so drained.

'Stop getting angry.' I say softly. 'I already said you make me feel better.'

'So that you just ignore everything that's been _done_?' He's not yelling at me, or even yelling in general. He's getting emotional and Cullen's emotional is passion. He's gripping onto the back of his hair trying to breathe normally again.

'No, of course not. It's fucking infuriating. I can't even masturbate without it being ruined-'

He throws his head back, his chin to the ceiling, trying not to react.

'Now you're not looking at me.'

'You're drunk out your skull.' He mutters, irritably. But his pale complexion, excusing the mysterious cheek, seems to grow whiter as he puts a hand to his mouth.

'I'll be better, tomorrow.'

'You won't even _remember_ tomorrow. Yet again I'll have to sit here in a bumble trying to explain what we talked about and-'

'Calm down will you.' I complain lightly, an intrusion of silliness watering down the tone. He sighs, his breath both warm and cold at the same time. 'It's fine. I'll drink a gallon of water and I'll remember everything. If you're that worried, I'll even _video_ myself-'

He whines a little and rubs the back of his neck.

'You get so rude anytime I have a drink around you.'

'I panic!' He admits but his eyes are a lot softer when he looks at me. 'I'm sorry. I just panic.'

I squeeze his knee playfully and offer a soppy grin.

'If you want me to stop, I'll stop…' I promise, trying to hold myself up a little more respectively.

He groans again and rubs his face, bringing his head down a little so his hair slips forward into his eyes.

'I wasn't lying when I said I just wanted you happy.'

'And safe.' I add, cheekily.

'And safe.' He repeats.

We stay sitting in silence for a little while longer and even though we're not necessarily 'cuddling', he still has his hand on the small of my back, blue eyes watching over me and his thin mouth pouting as he chews on the inside of his lip.

'I think we should go back downstairs…' I whisper to him. He rolls his eyes, his shoulders stooping in a calming manner as I lean into him.

'It wasn't an hour ago you were wanting them to leave.'

'I know… but Emmett's finally playing good music and dancing around our kitchen in my fluffy socks sounds fun.' I lift up my leg to wiggle my socked toes in the air. He gently smiles, pulling up the slipped ankle for me before leaning forward out of my grip.

He helps me stand up, because I'm far drunker than I was when I sat in his blasted wardrobe, and I stumble awkwardly before throwing my head back in laughter, gripping onto his black-Tee for support. The hallway light is brighter so he looks less sombre and more tired, the shadow of his jaw seeming darker with stubble, and one particular cheek seeming _too_ red.

'I think maybe we should wash your face before you go down there.' He says gently, finally lightening up a little.

' _We_ , huh?' Casually ignoring how offensive this statement is…

'You know what I meant.' He complains gently, those blue eyes rolling. 'Unless of course you want them to know you've been... upset?'

'You're meeean.' I sing, skipping along to the bathroom and running the hot tap.

Curse him being such a know it all. But the water is soothing and it's bringing a back a little reality to my hazy view. Which is a shame when I think back to my ideas with Cullen and water from earlier. I wash my face a few times. Scrubbing at my neck with a flannel despite the fact I haven't worn make-up since last Saturday.

'All done?' He asks.

My eyes are squinted to stop water falling into my eyes. I can't see anything. I reach my hand out for a towel when a square of warm material is pressed gently to my face. I jump and immediately start to laugh. Despite himself, he laughs a little too, pressing the fabric to my hair line, my cheeks and my eyes so that the water is dried from my face and I can see.

'Hey.'

'Hey, yourself.' He replies, raising an eyebrow when I wobble on my perfectly flat feet. He's lifted his arms up just in case I'm about to fall but I just giggle a little and go to take the stairs.

'Wait.' He murmurs, pushing his hand infront of my stomach to stop me. I roll my eyes.

'Wait for what?'

'If you can't even walk on flat ground, I don't exactly feel safe letting you down the stairs. They're steep enough _without_ your lack of balance.'

'Are you gunna give me a piggy back?' I ask with a grin. He shares my smile, shaking his head just slightly.

'I was actually going to suggest going down on your-?' He nods his head towards the top of my legs, letting his eyes downcast and very much avoidng he very thing he's implying; My ass. Hmm?

'Carlisle Cullen, you tease!'

Those blue eyes of his look to the ceiling and with a sigh, he pulls me by the hand to the top step before kneeling in front of me.

'You Gentleman.' I say playfully, squeezing onto his shoulders as I jump onto his back. He wraps his hands around my calves, close to where my knees are squeezing into his hip, and slowly begins to descend the steps where I remain safe in his capture.

'You drunkard.' He murmurs, thinking I can't hear but I can and so I squeeze my knees together into the inside of his waist so that he yelps a little, clearly not expecting such an action.

'You've _got_ to stop doing that!' He complains lightly, his hands warm on my ankle.

'I know all your weak spots, Mister. Don't get smart with me.'

I know he's smirking without even looking at him. He's still holding firmly onto my legs when he reaches the living room carpet. There's no explanation why but he doesn't put me down until we're in the kitchen where he reverses close to a counter top and clearly expects me to shuffle off.

'Thanks for the lift.' I say, grinning.

His mouth rises in a gentle move and he goes to take a gentle step back but I reach out for a fistful of his shirt and pull him so that he falls into the space of my legs, his stomach against the line of the marble. He raises an eyebrow, perhaps at my hand and lifts his face up so that his nose is to my forehead.

We can just about hear everyone in living room. I'm not sure what they're talking about, something meaningless but they're all involved and they're all, apparently, enjoying themselves.

'I'm sorry.' He says softly, the word gentle as it passes into the space between us.

He has both hands gripping onto the edge of my seat, either side of my thighs but not intimate enough to be questioned upon. He's aware I'm staring. Smoothly, he plays a wave of a tune between his fingertips, lifting his hand to stare at it before brushing his knuckles under my cheeks.

'I had no right to be so foul to you, I'm so sorry.'

'Shh, Carlisle. It's over now.'

He makes a face, his eyes closing as he leans a little closer, his head bent low.

'It's not though, is it?'

'Stop.' I tell him, my eyebrows knitting together.

'I'm sorry… I just can't bear it. The thought of-' He has to hold his breath again to stop the passion eating away. But I'm liking the passion. It spoke volumes to me.

'You can't protect me forever. You know that.'

'I can try?' He pleads, the blue of his eyes making me drown once more. I settle into a position, holding my torso to replicate his own stance.

'You have Alaska to think of? And all your _boring_ Doctor conferences?' I tease, my feet moving to the tune of the song currently playing.

It amazes me Edward's ability to control any element of music around him. And what amazed me more is how he could change the expectations of a suited party with just the use of an unexpected playlist.

'I'm not going…' He says sullenly, still staring at my jeans and finding an unusual piece of thread to look at.

' _What_?!'

'I said…' He brings his chin up, biting his lip. 'I'm not going. I'm staying here…'

'Carlisle!'

'You can't stop me, Es.'

'You're being ridiculous. You can't just _not_ go.'

It's only because I'm intoxicated that I continue to grin despite my apparent reprimands. Though on this notice it could probably be argued that I'm forgiven. Seeing as his own face is breaking up into his reserved smile.

And I still have the question of his face to comment on.

I shake my head a little, suddenly aware that I'm still gripping tightly onto his shirt and realising this, I playfully pull him in closer. He spreads out his hands again to break his, miniature, fall.

'Question?' Cullen poses, squinting at nothing in particular, his chest inches from my own and my hand blending into normality.

'Shoot?'

'If this is a ' _party'?_ ' He gives quotation marks with his fingers. 'Then what's with the sad music?'

'It's not sad?' I retort, frowning. It's passion. It's excitement. It's ou flatmates favourite ballads

'Oh yeah? _'It must have been love'_? Shouldn't we be listening to dance party tunes or whatever?'

My hand goes to copy his own and fiddles with a few strands of my hair. 'You know how much Edward loves to set a tone.'

'Are you suggesting our _Dear_ lil' Edward is _flirting_?'

I giggle a little, my feet still tapping against the door I've pushed them against. The reminder of Edward gives him the responsibility to look towards the living room in wonder. Apparently satisfied, he faces me with a shrug. From the sound of their conversation they're not exactly ready to move just yet. Neither am I.

'Are _you_?

He nods a little, trying to conceal his smirk as he looks behind my head thinking. Though he _then_ does something unbelievable and awkwardly taps his foot in the same rhythm as mine.

'And _what_ was that?' I whisper quietly, nodding to his feet. By the time I look up, his cheeks are pink and he's avoiding looking at me.

'Nothing?' He says far too quickly.

Oh, ho Cullen. Don't give me the ammo.

'Aww don't be shy, now! Show me the moves.'

He rolls his eyes, smiling widely as he continues to hold my attention for the evening.

'So what's this one then?' He asks, pointing upwards with a perfect finger.

'It's by someone called Tracy Chapman. _Baby, Can I Hold You_ ….'

'It's a nice one.' He says, his lips moving in appreciation.

The momement has captured me. Despite the fact that I am drunk, and feeling more so in his intimate presence, I am unbelievably captivated by his beauty. But I don't just mean his face beauty. It's like a different type. The kind that's managed to make me feel like an Ethereal being. The kind that keeps my heart beating and my mouth grinning. He's my sea of calm after the storm. The patience to my panic and the relaxed to my chaotic.

I sway gently to it when I think he's not paying attention. Just my top half because I'm sat on flat marble. It's a nice moment because I can hear my family in the front room, laughing and joking, cheering, singing like we normally all do- and yet I've got the best seat in the house.

The warming build of the song's chorus reaches its peak and with another heavy sigh, he rests back on his heels, tilting his neck back so that his hair follows. I'm not an idiot. He's surveying me, questioning my judgement and my sanity. But who cares. He's still facing me. In an effort to spot his expression, I lift my chin up. It probably looks like I'm mocking him when I'm actually just trying to get a sight of his eyes. He has them closed. I can't tell if that's because he's tired or not.

'What are you thinking about?' I ask softly, my mouth close to the edge of his chin so that I can see every tiny freckle hidden beneath his complexion. The side of his face lights up in a smile.

'The lyrics…'

'These ones?'

He nods and pulls his head down to look at me in the eye. A few moments go by where he doesn't say much just watches me sway but then I realise that I'm swaying and I pause, embarrassed.

'Don't stop on my accord, please.'

'I didn't even realise I was doing it…' I murmur pathetically, looking at my sweaty hands. They're no longer resting on his chest but rather in my lap, patient. 'Probably says quite a bit about how much I've had to drink?'

'Or how much you like the song?' He suggests instead.

'I think I like your theory better.'

'Thought you might.' He waits for the chorus to come around again and playfully nudges my arm as if copying my passive 'dancing'. I giggle at first and then I laugh properly. To which he joins in.

My laughter seems to fall silent then. Not for a bad reason. For the perfect one.

We're naturally close to each other meaning I can reach him without moving. Instead, I lift my head up towards him though he's still taller. His hair is still flopping in front of his eyes, interfering with his lashes so I comb them back. Somehow both my hands are resting on the sides of his face, sincerely, feeling the warmth of his cheeks run into the heels of my hands and through to my quiet heart.

I'm already sitting up but now I sit taller, coming over to pinch my knees into the slides of his legs to prevent him moving. The Adam's apple in his throat bobs and he keeps a careful eye, and a ragged breath at my neck.

With a teasing look and a smile, I let my left hand weave itself in the back of his hair so that his eyes momentarily close. My right hand slips gently from his sore cheek, passing his hard jaw and coming to rest the space of his neck and shoulder. The place that might just have him whining out if I felt like becoming a masseuse.

He tries to take even breaths but they come out heavy and uncoordinated, wisping over the hollow of my throat where his shirt has failed to cover. Every single part of my body is nervous. Nervous and alive as I feel him tense around me, his eyes tightly squeezed closed, his mouth parted slightly in anticipation.

My fingers continue to tease the back of his hair, playfully but not necessarily lightly, causing a simultaneous frown and grin. Staring gives me the overwhelming push I need and I lean to, gently and innocently, press my mouth to his.

But with a grimace, he leans away.

'I- _can't_.' He apologises weakly, his own confidence faltering on his last word. He rests his hot forehead to my fringe, gently so that our hair colours intertwine. 'I'm sorry. I just _can't_.'

I don't know what to do. My first instinct is to cry (which isn't great, I need to stop that) and my second is to hit him.

'Es, please don't look at me like that.'

I can't look like anything else. What is his obsession with keeping me on the hook?! He's worse than a fuck-boy!

Warm hands touch my face, the thumbs gently wiping the padding of my cheeks.

All I can focus on is trying not to be humiliated which is hard with the fact I've watered down my own alcohol intake. So I just close my eyes, bite my lip and pretended not to notice.

'Look at me?' He pleads, gently.

Still in darkness, I shift to a less invasive position and wait for a few moments in a bit of a strop.

'Esme, please?'

'If you haven't noticed, I'm pretending I don't exist in order to deal with the fact that you've rejected me... _twice_ now-

'Will you just let me explain?' He interrupts playfully. I open one eye and wish I didn't.

He's grinning at me and he's still gorgeous and beautiful and now I really think I'm going to cry. He takes a hand from my face and threads it into my hair, combing it back with such gentle movements I feel he's casting a sleeping spell on me.

'I'm not going to kiss you when you're drunk. You should know that?'

I turn my glare to him. 'So you'll completely lead me on instead and deny me the goods? _Thanks_.' I retort miserably.

He continues to interlock his fingers with the gentle curls on my head, following them down to my shoulder.

'Secondly-'

'There's more than one reason?!' I complain, feeling utterly destroyed now. This world just needs to let me burrrn euuurrrghhh. Fucking hell.

'Es, just look at me.'

It's not fair he's finding this so funny when I'm fucking infuriated. And still kinda horny. And humiliated. Ass.

' _Secondly_ , we have company.' He juts his head behind him in the direction of the yelling and the chanting. 'Not exactly appropriate?' He says laughing.

I'm not laughing, I'm angry.

'The first one I'll accept but I'm not happy about it-'

'I'm not finished yet.' He sighs.

I glare at him with basically means he can carry on but as stated, I'm not happy. I'm immediately starting to question what I want to drink first. Maybe I should just head straight back to the Vodka where I'm guaranteed to pass out.

He steps back and rubs the back of his hair so that it frays out messily.

'I also think maybe you might need some time? It'd be immoral of me to even think about myself when you're so-'

'Disgusting?' I guess, sourly.

He frowns, leaning away to give some ventilation to my rising temper.

'Vile?' I continue to slur. I've got to be close now?

'No. Of course _not_ -'

'Revolting? Abhorrent? Abominable? Come on, Cullen. I can give you a thesaurus, if you want?!'

I'll give you a thesaurus and use it to whack you upside the head. URGH. HOW IS THIS EVEN FAIR?!

'Esme, stop overthinking! I was going to say-'

'Broken?!' That one doesn't come out as forceful as the others. It kind of falls out my mouth like a whimper for attention. He rubs the front of his neck and shakes his head.

' _Vulnerable_.'

I'M GOING TO SCREAM. AND NOT IN THE FUN WAY!

'Oh for Fuck _sake_. I already told you I was trying to masturbate earlier?! What more do you want?!'

He jumps a little, attention thrown completely to the other room before returning back to me, pink and panicked as usual.

'Will you keep your voice _down_?' He asks, startled by my honesty and _trying_ to be irritated. He's smiling again.

'I don't see why that's a reason to wait when-'

'Lastly-'

URRRGH!

'This better be your last, Cullen. I don't want a fucking essay on why I'm so repulsive.'

If he continues to smirk, I will take it as given permission to tear his head off and feed it to some Lions at a zoo.

'I never said you were repulsive? Please don't be upset.-'

No, of course not? Why would I be upset that you spend you're life HUMILATING THE FUCK OUTTA ME?!

'Well okay, _lastly_ , I just wanted to ask that I be the…' His sentence unexecedly stops.

My patience is gone. And I am drunk. Two things you don't want to be at the same time: pissed and _pissed_.

'The _what_ , Carlisle?'

'Well. I kinda want to be the one to…?'

Spit it out, will you?!

'You don't want me to kiss you?' I assume and once more the sound of my voice is not the sound that I wanted. I'm like a measly teenage girl about to burst into tears.

Oh holy shit man, it feels so much worse when you say it out loud. He grimaces, his eyesbrows coming together as he frowns really hard at me. When I say frown, perhaps I should be more specific. He's crumbling.

'Not just yet. I would, _please_ , like the opportunity…' _Is this a fucking job interview?_ 'To, urgh, prove that I am not as _shy_ as you may have once assumed..?'

He's clearly feeling in a state of calm now. It must give him some overarching thrill of authority knowing that I'm pathetic enough to continually throw myself at him. Look at that proud smile. He's loving every second of my utter embarrassment. I don't answer him. I just wait for him to clarify.

'If you'd permit me, I would like to be the one to… kiss you?'

If he can't feel my glare than I suggest he go to a hospital.

'Is that an easy way of telling me you're not interested?!' OR rather, is this the cold hearted, frugal and damn-right offensive way of saying it?

'No!' He says eagerly, his grin diluting.

'Or of telling me to fuck off?' That sounds likely. Look I know I'm not as saintly as he is but all he has to do is be polite. I don't need all this crap!

'No?' He's back to amused, how nice. Fucking hell, he's more inconsistent than the weather.

'-And die?'

'Esme! Stop being so _excessive_. I just want you to be … _patient_ … if that's okay?'

You've got to love the way his own mouth is trying not to pronounce the word 'patient'. That's real hilarious. I stare at him as though he's grown a big ass ugly head.

'You want _ME_ to be patient when _you_ 're the one who can't wait a day even without demanding to know my life issues?!'

'Hey! That's not fair, yours is in a completely different context-'

'But it's the same complex?' I argue, frowning so hard I'm seconds away from ripping apart my bloody BRAIN, I'm so mad.

'Es? Why are you angry?' He asks laughing.

But he doesn't need to say another word. I lean my weight into where my hands are positioned on the edge of counter and I'm about to thrust off and jump when I see his face. He's got an eyebrow raised.

'What now?' I whine. But he curls his arm gently around my waist and carefully pulls my weight off the counter, lowering me to the floor with a gentle movement and stepping back. Fuck him and give me a double vodka.


	26. Reasons why self-control is stupid

_**Sometimes it's good to have allies. That is all I have to say for this chapter. ;)**_

 _ **Thank you for your awesome reviews! I'm gushing so much! And so sorry for any errors in grammar and typos etc. It irks me so much when I come to see it at a later date. But oh well.**_

 _ **I have a feeling this might not be the most popular of chapters... but the next one- Oh my GOD!**_

 _ **Alright- I'm teasing. I'm sorry! Please continue to leave your lovely comments, even if they're not lovely, and once more, I am always utterly grateful for your genuine kindness!**_

 _ **Thank youu!**_

 _ **(Also, don't believe the word count. It liiiiies!)**_

* * *

Drowning my sorrows was one thing. Trying to do it in front of the guy who is drowning them is another. Edward's awkwardly romantic music isn't helping either so with a grumble, I switch the playlist to a dance-focused one. The sort of thing they'd play in a club back from the 90s. Giving Cullen the cold shoulder is a bit pathetic when we're the only two people in the kitchen but while everyone still inhabits the living room, debating about bloody teams and what-not, I set up six cups into a triangle on either side of the table and fill them with alcohol.

Which is fine. But like I said, I've drunk a lot already and right now I'm fuelling the fire. Which here means that, because of the rising alcohol levels, I've automatically started throwing shapes in our kitchen.

Well at least I stick to my word. Dancing in the kitchen in fluffy socks _is_ fun!

Turning around, I find Carlisle sitting idly next to the window. One leg hangs down while he holds his bent knee close to him. I immediately feel my cheeks begin to burn. And not just my cheeks actually…

Holy fuck I am so drunk there are multiple Cullen's in my kitchen.

'You okay there?'

'Fine.' I snap, spinning away from him on the tiptoes of my socks but I wobble a little and all of a sudden there's a warm hand on my arm. Again.

'Hon, I know you've got a thing for dancing but _please_ be careful. You're bound to-'

I obnoxiously mouth his own words back to him. He smirks, I know he does because that's all he ever fucking does, and lifts an eyebrow at me.

'I'm _fine_.'

'Just warning you?' He murmurs, raising his hands in surrender while still unaccountably amused at whatever entertainment I seem to be providing. I don't care if he's watching me dance on these slippery tiles. I'm enjoying myself. Even if this floor is impossi-

 _Shiiit_!

Suddenly, he jumps up, throwing his arms out but my trusted foot has found its balance in the nick of time. I continue to make a fool out of myself, acquiring the casual fall-to-the-floor as part of my routine with a drunken giggle. He huffs once so that his hair shifts from his dark eyes.

' _Please_ just take in your surroundings?' He begs, peacefully. Admiring him once more, I find he's resting lazily against the counter, legs out the way of the floor as he continues to supervise my enjoyment. I'm pissed. I want to get back the spiritual snogging- and he's not complying.

'Nope.' I cuss.

'By all means, dance all you'd like. I was _simply_ suggesting-'

'Stop criticising!' I whine, pathetically.

I'm quick to judge in this moment because I'm still irritable and worse than that, I'm showing off.

He rolls his eyes and leans away, encouraging for me to take my space once again. As well as having a cool little poppy jive, I take the moment to openly brash his shyness, deliberately trying to poke the bear. He couldn't be less than bored.

'Hardly fair to judge when you're stood there like a fucking tree-'

'I can hear you, Esme?' He says with a grin.

This isn't wise. I'm drunk. I'm dancing. I don't know what I'm saying and there's a gorgeous Adonis in front of my eyes, holding his hands out to me.

'Prove me wrong, then.' I propose, mockingly bowing down to the floor. 'All _yours_.'

He shakes his tired head, his floppy hair slipping into his eyelashes.

Wasn't I meant to be angry at him? Now I'm flirting again? Shit. He shyly turns away, his smile crumbling into his cheeks, especially the left side; a raw-pink, as his eyes avoid my own. He's trying to ignore my challenge. Coward.

Fine. If he's going to ignore me, I'm going to ignore him. So continuing to act like the sexiest mother-fucker on this planet, I mess around a little more. I shimmy my shoulders, bend my knees and throw out my hip all according to the tune of the song. In fact, I'm planning on stepping it up a notch and round out my ass a little.

Blow me down- I think I've broken my flatmate into spontaneous combustion.

Why is it only when we're not facing one another that he becomes brave?

Quickly pulling me towards him, he twirls me so that I'm forced to balance on my tiptoes unless I want to fall to my butt. He pulls me towards him meaning I fall with both hands to his chest but the music tempo speeds up and, kinda leading me, he manages to push me out to follow my steps and ultimately- urm- dance with me?

Who knew bitching could result so successfully?

If I was angry, I've forgotten why because I'm laughing so much and I'm so utterly impressed that I'm happy to copy his footing, tainting it a little to suit my own style. He's laughing just as much, curling me back into his arm, spinning me again.

'Wooo! Go, _Baby_ , go!' Emmett cheers from the doorway. The sudden entrance of an audience causes Carlisle to first jump out of his skin and secondly turn to ice.

'Emmett!' I complain loudly, hiding my amused smile. Carlisle is pink into his hairline, bless him. I pull myself out of his embrace and help to steady his balance, readjusting his white shirt to cover my shoulder. Both of them ignore it and watch each other like we're at an awkward show down?

'Don't mind me, I'm enjoying the show.' He teases with a naughty wink. I'm tempted to throw something.

'Hush, Emmett.' Carlisle murmurs gently, rubbing his hair down as every inch of him colours into an alternatively _new_ colour.

'I was only coming to see if things are chill?'

I can feel my flatmate's unimpressed expression from behind, but still giggling, I nudge his hip gently and nod in reply.

Chill as possible since Carlisle's got his eyes on me.

'Yep. Ready if everyone else is?' I gesture to the display on the table which receives several gallant whoopings and a fist in the air.

'Hell YEAH!'

Emmett calls them all in from the living room and in seconds, an imminent argument breaks out about teams.

'I'm suitably impressed.' I whisper under my breath, draining a glass of water from the sink while Carlisle tries to return to his pasty angelic glow. He frowns at me before giving into a smile.

'Yeah, _yeah_.' He whines, dismissively. He rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles again, turning away from me to conceal the warmth of both cheeks.

Someone's missing.

Surveying over them, because let's be honest I'm so drunk I've forgotten how to count, I gently touch Carlisle's wrist.

'Where's Tilly?' I ask carefully, my voice mannish and pissy at the same time. I don't know why I expected her to still be here. For once, I'd falsely doubted her bravery.

'Gone.' He says blankly. Edward's about to perk up, raising a hand in the air but with a curt shake of Carlisle's head, Edward shuts his mouth and down falls the hand.

This isn't abnormal. What's abnormal is Edward sorely rubbing his cheek and shuddering as though he's the one with the inflamed skin. I look at the face in question, the one with the famous hand print. Of course, Carlisle is trying to cover it. What's worse is that when I suspiciously watch him, he looks at me as if I'm the weirdo-?! I smirk a little and shove his shoulder but it means nothing to him because his insides are steel. Gorgeous steel that I keep staring at. Weird that? How he could represent something so rigid when the implication of Cullen _rigid_ had a way of liquidising my knees.

Seconds, actual _seconds_ , before I'm about to demand the truth from the guilty faces in the room, the same argument from the living room descends and Emmett is hurtling abuse at Jasper who is critiquing tactics.

We haven't even played the bloody game yet.

'For fuck sake! Girls v Boys is _fine_!' I complain, pushing past to stand with my gang of girls. WHY ARE ALL THE MALES IN THIS HOUSE JUVENILE FUCKWITS?!

…excusing Ol' Saint fucking Peter with his pearly pubic region. URGH.

Though we've got the uncoordinated on our side, i.e. Bella, the boys are far easier to beat in the sense that their over-confidence is their downfall. Six rounds in and they're back to yelling at each other's faulty throws. I'm back to wishing I was in bed. For a different reason this time. But that's wicked. So ignoring these deep, immoral urges I hum along to the song.

We're playing game after game, at the peer-pressure of Emmett's obnoxious mouth. Our friends are drinking more than alcoholics and even holding my weight against the fridge is becoming a workout for my legs. Cullen moves to sit on the counter behind, keeping that watchful eye on us as the alcohol continues to flow down my throat and into my head. By all means, we have a lot of fun and Alice and I have taken to recreating some old age dance moves that have us giggling.

But pretty soon we reach the final stage of the alcohol.

Rose is fawning all over Emmett as he uses a mischievous hand to roam her gorgeous figure. Alice is neatly nibbling on the back of Jasper's neck so that he shudders every three minutes and Bella and Edward are having some dumb conversation. Unimportant but apparently intense as he watches her every move with something far beyond the look of a crush.

All of a sudden, there's a booming clatter of various crockery and I glare at where Rose is pressed up to our sink, gripping onto Em as he bites into her collar bone.

'Urgh!' For once that wasn't my contemptuous bitch of a moan. In my fucking kitchen and everything. On my _counter_!

'OI! Guys!'

If Cullen doesn't stop laughing at me I swear to God. But the most energetic couple of our group turns to give a sheepish smile.

'Get a room!'

'Can-'

'BY THAT I MEANT YOUR OWN, EMMETT!'

Jesus Christ, what is wrong with him?! Give him a shot and he thinks he's fucking Hercules.

'Aw, come on Es. Don't be jealous of the meat feast.' He quirks an eyebrow and winks to his girlfriend despite how lame it looks.

I glare harder, utterly silenced by his drunken bullshit while Rose gives him a hand-job three feet away.

'The wha-'

'Hey, man.' Jasper slurs, raising a hand up as if to warn me away. His grin melts into his face as Alice continues to feast herself. What the fuck is it with these two?! And they called me the whore?! Yuuuck.

'Look. Wer'all drunk. Should prob'y get to _bed_ -.' His southern drawl is teased out from the expert of Alice's weird masseuse hands and I share a look of foul disgust with Edward. He's puffed out his cheeks while I make the same comment with a gross shudder.

He has no obligation to complain. They're not in his bed. Eurgh.

'That was my point.' I add, irritably. Cullen moves in a minute, apparently having a silent conversation with Edward like he usually does before I hear the swing of his keys clatter about in his hand.

'Come on Emmett, I'll give you a ride.'

'Not drunk?' Emmett questions with a laugh.

It's the really insignificant things like this that make me want to lose my temper. _Obviously_ Cullen isn't drunk?! Why would we be with losers like Emmett ruining the party? Especially when he's seconds away from getting it on in our KITCHEN! We eat here for fuck sake! Carlisle stays silent, loosely shaking his head as he claps his hand onto Emmett's huge shoulder. Half supporting him, and by addition, Rosalie into a safer position.

'One day, my friend!' Emmett promises, hurryingly heading out the door because we clearly don't represent anything now he's getting a free ride to do the nasty with his girl. Well…it's hardly the nasty, is it?

Fine. Maybe I _am_ jealous but only of the _act-_ not the people. Considering my shower this morning, I've pretty much wound myself up. It's not fair that I don't get to release it when some douchebag with sex-on-tap, does?!

Carlisle smiles warmly to Emmett, not that the big guy registers it, helps grab their stuff like some sort of chauffeur and waits for us to politely say our goodbyes from the porch.

'Don't be mad, Es. Not like I spunked on your counter, is it?'

'Are you trying to make me hurl? Get out of here, you animal!' But the sound of everyone's laughter has loosened my distaste into a bit of a laugh. 'See you soon, guys.'

It's Rosalie that surprises me. As she's leaving, I drunkenly remember to thank her for the car and she _actually_ hugs me. Like on _purpose_. Which sucks because she's not the one I've been directing my pheromones to. Nevertheless, I hug her back a little and stand to watch Carlisle help them into his car. He's just zipping up his black jacket and opening his door when he calls:

'Hold done the fort for me, will ya?'

I think about replying but instead decide to poke my tongue out.

'Got it, chief.' Edward promises with a salute and now I'm embarrassed and just want to die in horrible winter alone and forgotten because obviously he's more interested in boy-conversation. Man, is he in trouble when I have a sober leg to stand on. Carlisle smiles, winks, probably his buddy, and climbs in the car while the rest of us turn back to face each other.

I'm kinda gutted that for the next ten minutes I've got no one to eye-flirt with. Goddamn.

With less than a wave, Jasper is upstairs in a flash and it's about three seconds on closing the door that I hear the shower run. Bella is obviously more polite and specifically bids us goodnight before also, reaching across to hug me. I must be giving off some anti-guy vibes or something. Edward doesn't say much. As the second most sober, he surveys the carnage of our downstairs, shrugs and crookedly smiles.

'Goodnight, then.' I dismiss grumpily.

How ridiculous of me to think Edward would be so _kind_ as to offer to help? Wow. The day that happens, I think I'll actually kill over and become a 1940s housewife. Arrogant ass.

'Thank-youuu.' He sings, smiling even wider.

'Whatever.'

He sings goodnight to Alice from upstairs and quietly closes his door so that it's only me downstairs. But I do what a _decent_ person would and clear away the mess. Which isn't too bad. It means I get to change the music to something mopey and clear the glasses to the exact standard they're required to be cleaned.

'You in here?'

I need to not be so jumpy when Alice is around. It's becoming a new fact of nature which I'll have to work on. With a wave of the cloth in my hand, I confirm that I am.

'Sweet of you and Carlisle to offer us a bed.' She announces randomly and the sudden spurt of her words s making me question if we were already half way through a conversation I've forgotten to listen to? I reckon she's being smart somehow, she's playing with her words in a way that I can't understand because I'm drunk.

Stupid gorgeous Cullen, only seeming genuinely happy when he's rejecting me. I'm too busy wiping a glass over and trying not to break it with my attitude to understand what she's on about.

'I think he said he's going to sleep on the sofa?'

Is this a game?

'Why?' I garble, now getting my hand stuck in the cylinder of another glass. She rolls her eyes and reaches over to help me though on the scale of drunk, she's worse than me.

'What do you mean ' _why'_?' She's grinning at me, she knows what I'm going to say even if I don't.

'He can have his bed?'

Correction: Share.

I throw the waves of my hair back over my shoulders and turn away from her giggling face to try and put some of the cups away. However, she's proving to be extremely irritating.

'Es?'

'Yeah?' I murmur distractedly. I've finally pushed every last drinking utensil away and shut the cupboard door. Woo! Now all I have to do is wipe all the sides down…. Of which she is finding extremely interesting at the moment because she won't leave me alone? It's just cleaning? Jeez Alice, if you were that interested- you might've helped.

'Er-nothing?' She squeaks, eyes to the floor as she watches me fuss around in order to restore my house-pride. It's unfair that she's sounding more sober than me. At least she looks worse… I.e drunker. Not worse as in _worse_. Jeeez. Look at her now, I wouldn't even qualify for her outfit.

Even through my hazy eyes (and even though we're both wobbling) she does look unexpectedly excited about something. Something, I'm not picking up on. Her large eyes finally have the glint that she lost a few weeks ago. Her mouth is pulled up in a pout and the way she's staring at me is not dissimilar to my younger siblings. It's rather sweet. And ultimately dangerous.

'What I mean is-. You're okay now, right?'

Oh.

That.

I'm not sure what to reply. So I just shrug nervously. Thinking of Tilly is like drinking industrial vats of acid. Carlisle hurting, either physically or emotionally brought confusion and frustration that I'm desperate to remedy-. Yet Carlisle. Just _Carlisle_. He brought an unexplainable reminder of safety. He hasn't been gone three minutes and I'm already giddy for his return.

'I'm-… _okay_. Guess I can't exactly be mad when I'm not the one whose been slapped, huh?'

Let's be honest, I don't even have a right to be irritated when I'm not the one parading the mark of a skank on my face. Alice's muddy doe-eyes widen as if she's surprised I've noticed such a thing. It's really quite patronising.

'Slapped?' She repeats, awkwardly.

'I'm not an idiot, Alice.' It's rude of her to even attempt to pull the wall over my eyes.

'You can't hold it against him, Es. He was drunk-' She's speaking far too quickly, thanks to the alcohol, that I'm struggling to keep up. I'm always struggling to keep up.

'I mean, we're all pretty drunk, it had to happen-'

' _Drunk_? What are you on about?' I readdress, annoyed. How blind was she? _Non_ -alcoholic root beer!

'Are you joking? He's been guzzling pints all night?! Anyway. _Admittedly_ , he had no right to do it but I guess he just acted? It was the only rational option!'

Rational?

'Bullshit Alice! He hasn't touched a drop!' I argue, stopping my cleaning to at least see if she can explain herself seeing as listening to her is just giving me a headache.

I'm not sure if I'm madly confused or confusedly mad. Either way, I'm irritated. To make it worse, her ignorance is grinding my gears

'-Fair is fair, I didn't think he had it in him! But Oh my _God_. It was _totally_ needed! It was only a slap- and it wasn't _that_ hard.'

Shit drops and I implode.

'WHAT THE ACTUAL _FUCK_?!'

'What?!' She asks panicked.

'HE _HIT_ HER?!'

She jumps away from me, amazed by the volume of my words. My whole world is suffering an Earthquake.

' _Her_?' She repeats.

My shoulders and my arms seem to take over in a weird convulsive shiver. My brain is thinking but not enough. Carlisle _actually_ -

'What are you on about, Es?'

'What am _I_ on about?! What are _you_ on about?! He hit her?! HE fucking _hit_ her?! What the f-'

'ESME! SLOW DOWN!'

' _ME_ SLOW DOWN?!' I demand, crazily, jabbing an accusing finger at her. 'You speed up and explain what the fuck happened! _NOW_!'

'ESME ANNE PLATT. _LISTEN_ TO WHAT I AM _SAYING_ -'

I'm going crazy. Do I call the Police? On Carlisle? That's ridiculous. But he touched her? HE actually fucking _harmed_ -.

Her small hands take a hold of both of my shaking shoulders and with a fierce but uncontrollably rude tone, she yells.

'Carlisle equals hysterical. _Comprende_?!'

'ALICE!' I seethe. Her hand imitating a zip is enough to shut me up. She's scary when she's yelling. And worse when drunk.

'Edward also equals hysterical. _Comprende_?!'

'FOR FUCK SAKE! GET TO THE POINT!'

'Jeeez man, _LISTEN_. So Carlisle was ranting and raving, turning _blue_ with anger so Edward, quite literally… _slapped_ a bit of sense into him?'

It's amazing how even Alice's ego is quick to abandon her in this moment.

'WHAT?!'

THE

ACTUAL

FUCK.

: A poem by Esme Platt.

She growls and scrubs at her face before apparently cursing her life off to our ceiling.

'Bloody hell, I thought you knew!' she whines petuantly. 'I wouldn't have said anything otherwise!'

' _Edward_. S _lapped._ _Carlisle_?!'

THAT BUGGER!

She shrugs a little then reluctantly nods her head. 'It's fine, though! Carlisle even thanked him after- Where you going-'

My feet are already moving in a hurry and in a manner of frustration and absolute fury, I've set a war path. Alice grabs me by the shirt and though she looks like nothing, her grip is enough to stop me getting anywhere past the second step.

'And what you gunna do- go yelling at Edward?'

'I'm going to find out what the hell was said!'

AND WHAT THE HELL CARLISLE WAS RANTING ABOUT IN FRONT OF _PEOPLE_.

'Shit, Esme. It's _Carlisle_. What do you think was said?! Just gibberish- he was angry?'

'WHY ARE YOU TREATING THIS AS NORMAL, ALICE?! CARLISLE DOESN'T GET ANGRY!'

Slight lie.

She shifts her weight to her hip and shakes her head gently at me so that a few of the little spikes come unstuck. I have no idea what she's thinking of me at this current moment but I have a feeling that whatever it is, my appearance isn't helping. My hair feels loose, I'm breathing like a bull through my nose and the palms of my hands are fruity pink where I've got them squeezed so tightly.

'What exactly happened?' She asks curiously, her voice soft and her tone inviting. 'With the DVDs and the…examination thing?'

DAMMIT WHY IS SHE TALKING RATHER THAN HELPING?!

'What does it matter, Alice?! Just get explaining!'

Oh god. He's taking _so_ long-. What if he's going to do something stupid?! Does he know where my boss lives? That's ridiculous- For fuck sake, he was perfectly calm before he left! We even _danced_! _TO A BLOODY POP SONG!_ That's a point. He was _calm_. _Too_ calm. He has a plan. Oh shit, what do I do!? Maybe I _should_ call the police?!

He's going to do something really fucking-.

'Jesus, Esme! Sit down before you faint.'

I jump from the shrillness of her voice and sink automatically to the step, my eyes on the door and my chest rising in heavy pants.

'Gotta be honest, I have no idea what's going on with you at the moment. But you _gotta_ chill. You're more anxious than Bella.'

I feel like it's not really appropriate to criticise that she's replacing me with a girl she's known a week but man if I wasn't distracted I'd be pissed off. She's lucky I'm infatuated by Cullen at the moment. Otherwise I'd bloody grill her. When I say _infatuated_ I mean because he's sexy and I'm open to any kind of body sharing he would like to do with me.

After a few seconds, I realise I've made no acknowledgement of her comment and she's looking concerned at me with her arms across her torso. So I try to look devastated and flutter my eyelashes.

'I've already opened my big mouth, don't expect me to say anything else.' She adds sophisticatedly. It's making me want to hurl on her shoes.

'For fuck sake! Just tell me!'

Those perfectly drawn eyebrows flirt over her eye socket and with a playful smile she shakes her head.

'I'm sure you'll get it out of him tomorrow.'

' _Tomorrow_? Why not now?!'

She raises her hands up again and shrugs. 'Because it's bedtime?'

IS SHE TRYING TO MAK MY BRAIN IMPLODE!

'Alice!'

'What? I'm drunk and I want sex- don't judge me!'

'Can't you see I'm having a _crisis_ , here?!' And I'm fucking blowing up as we speak.

She's sensed that I'm losing it because she's moved to pull me back from the stairs to the doorway of our kitchen. Drunkenly stooping to her heels, she picks up something from the floor and passes it to me. The damp cloth that I threw. I sigh, feeling the whole fire in my gut slowly distinguish as I take it from her and dry the table until it's perfectly clean.

Proves how drunk I am if I can't lose my temper without wanting to do some creepy deep-cleaning kinda shit.

'You're too passionate for your own good, sometimes.' She murmurs tiredly, wiping one of my angry tears away. I didn't realise I was crying again until now. Everything makes me cry at the moment. I'm crying at the fact I didn't get the orgasm I wanted, that's not fair.

It's also not fair the bastard keeps taunting me with it. If he wasn't such a wimp- we could be shagging right now!

She has that gentle smile on her face that is reminding me I need to be normal. At least while she's in the room and then I can crumble to shit. Or at least until I hear those footsteps back through the door.

'He's also very level headed.' She says after a while. And she's right, he is, but sometimes I wish he wasn't so sweet. Sometimes I wish he was passionate as I was. Passionate with anger, with love, with envy, with desire….

With something that wasn't just restraint.

'Mm.' More like Mmm… Those pelvic muscles.

What the Fuck am I saying- he could be out there committing fucking murder?! No. No, he wouldn't do that. It's Carlisle. Totally non-murderous type. Oh my fucking God but what if he's lost it-. EURGH I don't know what to assume?!The more I try and find a sense of balance with what to feel, the more intoxicated I'm becoming.

She's patient enough to want to wait for my go ahead before heading upstairs. I look around the living room and sigh. My home perfectly disgraced. How kind. I'll have to deep clean the carpet tomorrow. On the start of my ten day holiday-... A ten day holiday I might not have if Cullen does something dumb.

'Coming?'

I force a smile at Alice, nod weakly and turn off all the lights in hope that it'll make things seem normal.

Luckily, some of my self-respect is returned as her own drunken state heads downhill the closer she gets to her obviously naked boyfriend. Which I'm going to not think about because the two of them having sex in my bed is the kind of shit that's going to make me-

She hugs me and pretty much slams my bedroom door in my face.

'Goodnight to you, too?'

Jeeez, selfish much?

I fidget for a while as I 'patiently' sit on his office chair, twirling it far and beyond to the window and then dragging it back to make it seem like I'm not a child. Who is drunk. Twirling gets boring very quickly and because I'm dizzy enough as it is without the awful sloshing feeling of my stomach, I decide I need to find another distraction for a while. Emptying out my bladder and washing my face for the sixth time does little. So stupidly, I decide looking in the mirror to see how wasted I am is a good idea. My regret soon takes over my concern. I'm a little more than just embarrassed, that's for sure. Everything from the expression on my face to the posture of my hips is proclaiming how drunk I am.

No wonder why he rejected me.

And on that note, I now need about 30 more shots.

It's literally not even three minutes before I'm back in Cullen's bedroom, pacing along the carpet when she's knocking at the door.

'Fucking hell, Alice! Condoms are in- Edward?' He hangs in the doorway, awkward and lanky with his non-flattering drunk smile on his face.

Oh Jesus, I do not need another virgin on my hands- please God, I've made my choice.

'Well that's a sentence I never want to hear again?' He complains, his cheeks red and his hair slipping into his face. I roll my eyes.

'Same goes for you, condoms are in-'

'I'm not after condoms?'

'Oh.' I say. Because why else would Edward want me?

He scratches the back of his head and nods to Carlisle's room which is making me feel like I'm trespassing. Which means he's trespassing, right?

'He's not home yet.' I wonder if he can detect my bitchy tone or if he's come to regard it as a part of my accent.

'I wanted to speak with _you_ …' He says quietly, his green eyes to the floor. Grumbling half-heartedly, I retreat to Carlisle's desk and clamber on top.

Urrrgh, what happened to the good old fashioned internet? For fuck sake even Cullen took the initiative and got researching-. That reminds me... his research? Can't think of that now. Edward's disturbing the room.

'Look, all you need to be is patient and calm. The more nervous you're going to be the harder it's going to be to perform.'

'Excuse me?' He mumbles, frowning hard.

'If you excuse the pun.' I realise, waving a hand away though I'm a comedienne.

'The pun?' He repeats.

'Yeah, anyway forget it. Just _relax_ and enjoy it. You'll be-'

'That's not why I wanted to talk.' He complains. 'Jesus. Is _everything_ just sex with you?!' In a typical Cullen fashion, unless it's in fact a Masen tradition that's been adopted by our landlord, Edward grimaces and instantly throws his hands out in an apology. 'I didn't mean that.'

'They never do.'I mutter bluntly.

He raises an eyebrow before awkwardly sitting in Carlisle's desk chair, another thing that's wound me up. 'So?' I ask impatiently.

'…So… urm. I've been thinking?'

I've been yelling too loudly- look how nervous he is, this isn't good.

'Dangerous.' I mutter. He's not impressed.

'I just wanted to say that I'm… _sorry_ for what I said….'

Huh?

'Pardon?' I repeat, incredulous. Did I actually believe I was going to have an explanation on my hands, there? Jesus, I forgot how tight these losers are.

'When I was winding you up the other day? It was totally out of order of me and I have no right-'

'What on earth are you doing?' I interrupt, hands raised upwards.

'Me? I'm apologising?'

He's getting fidgety embarrassed under my anger which is fine but he's as pink and as fidgety as a worm in a saucepan.

'What _for_?!' I protest. YOU SHOULDN'T BE APOLOGISING TO _ME_ , DICKHEAD.

We don't apologise! W're not apologising people! We are angry blurt-it-all-out-and smile-awkwardly kind of people?! That was the beauty of our friendship! We didn't have to apologise?! He's killing it!

'I was outta line and regardless of what you _think_ Carlisle has said-' he stops me from interrupting by standing up quickly and stepping away. 'After tonight, I'm aware that half the things I've said to you aren't fair this week…'

'Why are you saying this crap?!' I ask, crossing my arms tighter to try and make myself seem smaller. I don't want an apology?! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK HAS BEEN SAID?! I'd also quite like to be reassured he's not being a twat and that he's seconds away from parking up on the drive. He should be back by now!

He doesn't reply for a few seconds. This is not what I wanted. What I want is for him to be explaining what the fuck has been said because it's been ages since Carlisle left and I'm losing my shit and – Well, I'm worried.

'Because…'

'What?!' I demand, panicked. If you're gunna kill this understanding of mine at least do it with some voice!

' _Because i_ t's obvious that you haven't been your usual self this week and it's not okay-'

'WHATEVER CULLEN HAS SAID-!' I burst in, far too hot and over tired and drunk. Just the very look on his face is enough to piss me off once more.

'HE HASN'T TOLD ME _ANYTHING_! Now if you'd _let_ me get there- I'm saying _sorry_ to reiterate that you're my friend, Esme-'

'I know that, you drunkard! Get to the point!'

He's now getting severely wound up by my many interjections as shown by how he's trying to rip his own copper hair from his head. Yet another thing I'm sure had been picked up by Carlisle.

'-And I'm worried for you!' He finalises, looking at me with a face of struggle, exhausted by the efforts it took for a simple sentence to fall from his mouth.

The first thing that can be assumed is that I'm blaming Cullen and I'm really, really nervous.

' _WHY_?!' I push, dreading the inevitable confession of Cullen's ranting mouth.

'BECAUSE THIS IS THE SECOND TIME THIS WEEK YOU'VE BEEN IN TEARS!' HE blurts out. From there, the motorcar of Edward's mouth seems to be on a huge decline with no breaks. 'You _don't_ cry! You don't cry when you're angry! When you're drunk or happy, or even in the middle of a screaming match with your mother. You don't even _emotionally_ cry. So to see it happen _twice_ has got me a little concerned, I'll admit!'

I blame every fucking incorrect shot of alcohol for having me slip from the top of Carlisle's desk right onto the side of my uncoordinated body from the floor. He helps me up without much comment and scratches his face.

'I don't know what to say.' I reply honestly, which feels a bit foreign but whatever.

'Before you go off in a death wish, Carlisle _honestly_ hasn't said anything.'

'Sure.' I reply quickly chewing through my lip in both flattery and fury. 'Hence the _slapping_ , right?'

He roles his green eyes. 'The reason I slapped him was for another matter _entirely_ -'

'Yeah?' I reply challengingly, grinding my back teeth into powder but he tiredly sighs and nods his head.

'Yes.'

'You're such a fucking liar-'

'Hurtle abuse all you like, I'm not telling you anything!'

'That's not fair, Edward! You know he's too proud to tell me what the hell happened. Even _when_ I have a _right_ to know!' Alright, maybe I don't have a ' _right_ ' but I'm furious nevertheless.

Edward frowns a little, not in response but rather in thought, his eyes are hard but the smile on his face is softer.

'That's bullshit and you know it.' He murmurs playfully and it's only now that I'm reminded we're not in our best modes of responsible thought. Or rather, I'm not. Hence the outbreak of my mouth.

'He's just so _infuriating_! The way he tries to control everything-'

'You're right.' Edward replies sarcastically. 'He _is_ a control freak.'

A spontaneous arm comes out to clap him round the back of the head. The noise is enough for me to throw an apologetic look to him. He sniggers, rubs the sore part of his head and pinches the bridge of his nose as though I'm an irritating child or whatever. Which is not okay because if anyone is the kid, in maturity and age, it's HIM!

'Ow?!'

'Carlisle is _not_ a control freak! He's just…worked up and nervous. About stuff…' I sigh deeply and twirl my hair around my finger. 'It's probably a mother thing…'

'A mother thing?' Edward repeats, in disagreement.

'Well look at you, Jasper and Emmett. Even as the most sheltered of the lot, you're perfectly fine with responding to people without spontaneous combustion nor a monologue infused with arrogance and insane anxiety?'

He leans back and laughs, shaking his head just slightly.

'What?'

But for the moment he just laughs harder, rubbing his chest where it clearly hurts. I huff impatiently.

' _What_?!'

'That's hardly a _mother_ thing, Esme. It's more of a _you_ -thing. He has no self-control around you.' He offers a shy smile before shrugging. 'Anyway, sleep well.'

Self-control? None?! Pffft, say that to the Chasity belt he's tying around himself. Self-control, is overrated anyway. Who likes not having fun?

The drunk in me is pathetic enough to poke her tongue out as he leaves but it's hardly like he notices. That's okay though, I don't need his interference when my head is buzzing.

It's cold in Carlisle's room. Not enough that it's irritating my nipples, but enough that I've noticed he's taking a while. And the longer he takes, the hazier my focus, and sense of calm is getting.

 _Finally_ his car is on the drive. I leap out from my lazed expression from the desk and pull the curtain aside to catch a glimpse of him, he hasn't seen me. It gives me time to try and restore myself to total uninterested indifference. My head is heavy, my eyes are struggling to stay awake but my heart beats quickly.

The front door closes. Not loudly but enough that I recognise it. It an agonising and painful decision to simply wait for him to make his way up the stairs.

And I wait.

And I wait longer.

It's been over 20 minutes. I'm still waiting and there is no movement from downstairs? Not okay, how am I expected to sleep on my own?!

I try to wait a little longer, but as the minutes slowly tick my, my confusion is turning into a frown and I'm now confused and drunk. And to make it worse. The walls are thin enough that I think I'm starting to hear dirty talk coming from my room. Yuck.

If I thought I was wobbling before, I'm clearly unaware of how untrustworthy my feet can be and grabbing one of his long, woollen cardigans and wrapping it around myself thrice over, I clamber out the room, down the stairs and into the living room where there's a chill in the air.

The lights are all off which is making me a little nervous but with a look to the right, I see our backdoor swinging gently, the breeze nipping at my exposed skin and follow it.


	27. Reasons why it is the start of the end

**_So reading all your lovely support and messages completely wowed me over. I'm so so so so so so so appreciative for your lovely words and support! From the bottom of my heart, I issue everyone of you a glorious thank you!_**

 ** _As expected I will be just as appreciative if you would kindly leave your thoughts on this one- One things for sure, it's been a loooong night!_**

 ** _Having said that I really would've loved to have got this chapter up earlier but time has flown by and I've only recently had chance to sit down and edit it. Regardless, I've had so much fun outlining the next few chapters too, and I have every hope you will enjoy it as much as I have!_**

 ** _Thank you so much for your support! You are all glorious!_**

* * *

'Hey.' I whisper from the kitchen. He's lying on his back beneath the tree of the garden, both hands hidden behind his head for comfort. He clearly didn't expect to see me down here because he jumps little and lets his eyes adjust to the shock of colour against the navy night. Though he's looking troubled, he's still so accidentally gorgeous.

'Hey yourself.' He replies softly and after a few seconds of watching me, he resettles his head back into the grass.

'What are you doing outside?' I ask, crossing the uneven path to sit next to him. He's uncomfortable at first, staring at me guiltily before shifting his eyes up to the leaves overhead.

'You should go inside. It's cold out here.'

'I'm fine.'

'Es, you're shivering.' He replies quickly and despite the nip in the air he shrugs out of his jacket to offer it towards me.

'It's the alcohol.'

Those tired eyes read over my whole posture, sadly almost, worried and a sigh leaves his lips in a cloud of air.

'Still drunk, huh?'

'Very!' I say with a giggle and throwing myself back, I copy his exact posture, ignoring his solemnity.

'Es, please.' He leans up on his elbows and nods towards the door. 'I really don't want you getting hypothermia.'

I point to his cardigan currently stuffed around my body but he doesn't seem satisfied.

'Escort me back inside, then?' I say with a wink, leaning on his right arm to seem ever more the flatterer. For a moment it's as if I don't exist and he rolls his eyes in a dismissive manner.

'Besides, I'm perfectly fine, check out the size of your cardigan.'

Leaning up, he rubs his hair back before turning towards me and tightening the buttons. I lift my rolled up sleeves at him, stupidly I'll admit, but he simply unrolls both arms so that the cuffs cover my hands and wraps his jacket around my shoulders. I look like a yeti.

'What about you?'

His t-shirted shoulders shrug. 'I'm quite warm. The Cold will do me good.'

This sounds worrying.

'Cullen, why are you mad?'

'Mad? I'm not mad?'

'Tell your face.' I mutter.

'I'm not mad?' He repeats, finally amused. 'I'm just laying here.'

That's half the problem, genius.

'Exactly. Why aren't we upstairs?'

His sharp mouth twitches at a smile but like a reprimand to himself, his eyebrows lower and his chest rises slowly.

'You're right. You are quite drunk, maybe you should get some sleep?'

Something isn't right…

'Well come on then?' I insist, trying to stare him dead in the eyes. 'Let's get some sleep?'

I stand up too quickly and stumble over my feet again but he's up in a flash with his arms on my shoulders and every ounce of grief written on his face. I smile wickedly and half skip back into the kitchen to which he reluctantly follows, though it's clear he didn't want to. Grabbing a glass of water, and helping me off the side in a panic, he gently leads me back into the living room and encourages me to lounge comfortably.

When something catches my attention.

'What's with the bedding?' I ask confused, nodding behind him. He squeezes the pillow behind his head and sighs, the smile on his face, a wry one.

'I'm probably going to stay down here tonight?'

'What, _why_?'

I'm not crying. Not crying. Not crying even slightly.

He shrugs, his cheeks red before looking at the hands in his lap. 'I just think it's appropriate, I don't want to…give off the wrong impression?'

'I'm hardly gunna jump you Carlisle?' I reply tartly and it takes a while for my temper to diffuse itself. It sucks that he always finds a way to make me feel like a first class twat.

'I would _never_ suggest such a thing?' He promises weakly. 'I just-…I want you to be comfortable.'

'You know I hate sleeping alone?'

He looks up from his lap and frowns at himself. 'Yes…but you're still…'

'I've been in your bed when I've been absolutely slaughtered. What's the difference now?'

I don't realise I'm slurring until he nods to the glass in my hand. Like a sulky cow, I deliberately push it away and fold my arms over my chest in defiance. The only reason I'm bloody finding him so attractive is thanks to alcohol! Why be an arsehole now?!

…Okay so that's not strictly true…

'Don't make this awkward?' He pleads gently, a weak smile on his mouth.

I may be drunk. But I am still _me_. I'm a manipulative, conniving bitch.

'Have I done something?' I ask vulnerably, pouring all emotion into my feeble voice like a hurt and delicate being. He caves inside himself.

'Es, that's ridiculous. You know-'

'It's because I crossed a line again, isn't it-' I push, keeping a gentle eye on his upheaval. He _was_ sitting on his legs but he's now leant towards me, hesitantly. Hands out and his mouth crumbling.

'No! Of course not.'

'You can tell me the truth- I guess I _am_ a slag, I can't believe how stupid-' Half being dramatic, half drawing on painful experiences, here. He groans gently and shifts even closer, his mouth curving and those cheeks rosy. He's smarter than he looks.

'Hey, hey. I've already promised to kiss you, haven't I?' He opens his palms out towards me, an offering of peace, and waits for me to put my hands in them before offering any comfort. 'I'm sorry, I'm just being an idiot. If you really want company, I'll sit with you until you fall asleep.'

Apprently not smart enough. This isn't what I wanted.

'But you won't sleep with me?'

He sighs softly before scratching his head as though he's in pain. Pain I'd be happy to take away if he'd let me-.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I watch him exhaustedly shift into a better position on the sofa. Once he's noticed I'm staring, he makes no suggestion to move. Instead he tests my restraint.

Without a second thought, I shift up next to him so I can warm myself to him. The jacket on my torso rustles a little but folding my arm down I realise that I have a lot more power than I may have once believed.

He has his arm around me.

'Carlisle?' I gently peer up around the hidden space of his arm to sneak a look at his expression. He's more tired than I gave him credit for. Which explains why he's easy to persuade I guess. He's always been that sweet.

'Hmm?'

'Why did you take so long to come home?'

He opens his right eye rather weakly then sighs.

'Carlisle?'

'You know what Emmett's like, Es. Impossible after a drink…'

He drops his head to the back of the sofa and patiently waits for me to settle myself into a drowsy sleep. Despite how much I need it, the simple aversion in his voice is putting off the idea.

'You're lying-'

'I didn't do anything stupid….' He sits up and rubs his eyes. Easily anticipating my temper.

But it doesn't take it's usual route. Instead of bursting out in a colourful array of abuse, I grip the material against his ribs and worriedly grasp myself to him. He breathes stiffly through his nose.

' _What_ -'

'I _promise_ you. I didn't do anything stupid-' He mumbles, bitterly.

'CARLISLE!'

He turns to my sharp tone and guility lowers his eyes. 'I parked up for a few minutes, that was all. It's late, the shop was closed.'

'Were you _seen_?!'

'What does it matter- I'd only be a customer.' He looks quickly at me and then properly, squeezing my shoulder with a warm palm. ' _Es_?'

'I'm fine.'

'Esme, you're not breathing?'

'I'm fine.' I wheeze. 'I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine….'

'Hon, look at me. _Look_ at me.' He pulls me closer and waits until he hears the rush of air through my mouth to continue. 'I _swear_ to you, I didn't do anything. I stayed less than ten minutes before coming home.'

'You promise?' My voice is more pathetic than a petal in a blender.

'Absolutely.' I don't know if there's something about looking in my face or something else altogether but after a few more heavy breaths on his part, he surrenders himself and threads a hand into the loose waves of my hair.

'I'm sorry, I'm just-. Pissed off I guess.' He loosely scratches so that I lean into his hand a little.

'Sorry.'

'What for?' He asks patiently.

I shrug. 'Guess it's kind of my fault?'

' _I_ invited her.' He concedes and it soon becomes aware we're on different wave lengths. With the hand that is not supporting my ego, he touches his cheek and rolls his eyes.

'I heard Edward slapped you…' I murmur, immediately connecting act to reaction. He looks blankly at me first, then guiltily and then rather irked. He rubs his face.

'Of _course_ you did.'

'If it helps it wasn't Edward that told me?' Much to my annoyance.

' _Course_ it wasn't.'

'Carlisle?'

In exhaustion he lets himself smile. 'Couldn't expect Edward to keep his mouth shut, could I?'

'Not after a drink, no.'

He agrees and waits for me to press him a little further for information but when I don't, he opens up.

'He's not entirely to blame- I _was_ yelling.' Avodiing his own embarrassment, he reads my response. I'm not satisfied. As he should expect. '…And I did make a _suggestion_ about…planting a bullet in _someone's_ skull.'

'Carlisle! You hate guns!'

'I know.' He replies and then more softly: 'I know, that's why Edward had to act. Rather foolishly, I hoped it could've been kept from you.'

'Why?'

'Well it was never going to escape your notice with six intoxicated teenagers was it? Especially with Alice fussing about with ice every two seconds.'

Alice was fussing?

I'm shaking my head, a forbidden but nevertheless warm smile on my mouth. 'I meant why didn't you want to tell me?'

He doesn't answer, just watches me intensely. This is a disgusting subject and I'm grinning so widely, I probably look insane. Which answers his irritation, I guess.

'Car-lis-le?' I sing, leaning more into his side, trying to incidently pull my knee slowly up his leg in hopes it might persuade him. He goes to stop the movement by touching his fingertips to my leg. But in doing so, because he's using his right hand, he accidently pulls me closer to him. The tips of his touch grazing the top of my thigh rather than my knee.

Sparks eat up from my insides and the inadvertent act of simply pulling me, and therefore my legs, closer to him goads a gentle moan from my prattling tongue. He tenses a little, looking to me in confusion with his hands up in surrender but I've had to close my eyes.

This would be so much worse if I didn't have alcohol to blame.

'Are you-'

'Oh, I'm _fine_.' I giggle and with an intended groan, I bury my face in the bit beneath his arm.

'Urm?' Is it me or is his voice jumpy?

'Sorry, sorry. You were saying….?' I try to distract, still burying my face.

'Es…did you just... _groan_ at me?'

'Maybe?' I can feel my face warm up, even in the space of his shirt, but he shifts to a disappointing position.

' _Maybe_?'

'Eurgh, stop teasing. You know I haven't had sex in _ages_!' This might be one of the things I was meant to keep to myself… oooops.

His voice changes to a tremble but he politely pulls his arm away from me and hides the smile on his mouth. I'm missing the sparks.

'Hey!'

'I'm trying to be a-…' He pushes his hair away and chuckles to himself. 'You're _really_ drunk.'

'I've been worse?' This might be a way of trying to persuade him to sit so close to me. Especially when I put a hand on his knee.

'Es.' He murmurs, trying to hide the laugh as he watches my shitty attempt at seduction but that's fine because I'm going to stare at him a little longer and see what happens.

' _Babe_ , if I'm not going to kiss you there's no way in hell I'm going to be doing that?'

Well fuck. Now I'm coming on the spot.

B _abe_?!

Babe, huh? That's new. Not just new, it's intimate. It's… a turn-on. Am I winning? Because he's never called me B _abe_ before, or anything even slightly modern? _Babe_ is so much more involved than Hon…We've crossed some sort of line, surely?

'What about if you _don't_ kiss me?' I suggest, slowly. I dance a little with the sound, letting my tongue flirt with the words until the accidental fizz in my groin begins to build.

'Come again?'

Urgh! That's what I'm trying to do, Cullen.

While my right hand is still making circles in his knee, I use my left to push him against the couch, being evasive enough to let my nails rake at his shoulder. Though he's fighting to not smile, he doesn't fight anything else and as if I had the touch of gold, he quickly comes around to the value of my limbs.

That is until I take it too far and pull my hands too hard down his arm. He takes an amused breath and forces a frown on his face before resisting my touch.

'Woah- _Tiger_.' He murmurs, laughing gently.

'What if _I_ do-'

But he's cut me off with a soft hand against my mouth and a shake of his head. I'd be enjoying this so much more right now if he wasn't bloody laughing at me. Eurgh, I'm so hot for him, I can feel the heat of being in my very core... _almost_.

He waits patiently for me to settle away from him, up on my knees, before moving his hand from my lips. I was so close to biting him, it's unreal.

'Think about it this way. For tonight at least, I have 'herpes'.'

' _Herpes_?!' I repeat disgusted. He laughs and nods his head, the chuckle warm and loving.

'Yep, herpes. You don't want to kiss me because if you do, you'll get herpes.'

I mutter something under my breath about herpes being semi curable but he shakes his head and grins with a full set of teeth.

'What if I-' I begin challengingly, lowering my eyes to his belt and simply wishing for some kind of implication that he was enjoying himself. Nope. Nothing. For fuck sake. That's not fair. I'm spoiling my underwear right now.

'Don't want to transfer the herpes.' He replies smartly and when I look most angry, he takes the risk to wink at me. I could sob from frustration.

'But I don't have herpes!' I whine pathetically, groaning and not for the right reasons this time. He smirks famouslyand I feel myself start to drool.

'Sorry Hon. You _did_ kiss me-'

'This is the _worst_.' I gripe lifting my chin and letting the ends of my hair fall right down my back.

It would seem that at this current moment in time, I couldn't be more wrong. This _isn't_ the worst. Not when I can dream of Cullen sliding up against me, properly. Helping me to moan.

No, this isn't the worst. Not even the teasing or his genuine amusement.

What's _worst_ is when a series of muffled squeaks become louder. So much louder. And they aren't just squeaks. There's squeaks, moans, demands, commands and at the very epitome of worst- the whine of my bed springs.

With a face of fury, I turn to Zeus and growl. He's laughing hysterically. Facing the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He's completely shocked. I'm pissed off.

'You have _got_ to be kidding me.'

'Oh Es. I'm sorry-'

'No! No, don't even go there. This is _so_ not fair!'

But he laughs even harder, his cheeks glowing as he holds his stomach.

'This isn't funny, Carlisle!'

'I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm not laughing-.'

Yes he is. He's laughing a lot. And much to my disgrace, his laughter is cheering me up, too. With a grin that easily could be mistaken for disbelief, he pulls himself away, takes a deep breath and tries to face me on with sympathy. Which results in him guffawing in my face.

'On the upside, we won't have to listen for long.' I say with a shrug, trying to throw my weight back into him again. He doesn't open his arm up for a cuddle this time, but that's fine because he's apparently content enough to let me lay against him. Even if I can still feel his laughter beneath my body.

He smells like a mint cologne and warmth.

Once he's finally stopped laughing, he hums gently which is an obvious ask for me to repeat myself.

'I said we won't have to listen to long.' I repeat, mischievously. 'Jasper's a fast comer.'

'Jesus, Es!' He whines, laughing once more out of shock.

'What? Alice is always going on about it. That's why they have-' I have to stop because a series of fast grunts and groans are becoming gradually louder. I'm going to have to burn my bed. 'Anyway, that's why they have sex a lot.'

'Didn't need to know that!' He sings nervously, and I can imagine how warm his cheeks are simply going by how warm he feels against my back.

Silence.

Cullen sighs, relieved but I know better and I cringe waiting for a series of more cries to make themselves known. Alice caws and from there, the joint sounds of them both fill our living room. I lift my head to see Carlisle both disgusted and pink and laugh.

'Told ya.'

'Jesus. How _thin_ are our walls?!' His nervous giggling starts up again and I patiently wait to take my cue.

'Why do you think I only put out at outside the house?' I murmur with a smartass grin. He wisely hooses to ignore it.

'I think I'm going to have to get someone in. That's ridiculous.'

'And why is that, Cullen?' I demand, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He smirks and turns away from my face.

'I meant since Edward has Bella, now.'

'Sure you did, you slut.'

'Hey!' He whines, playfully. 'Need I remind you that I'm still the vi- _Bloody hell,_ that really was quick?'

To answer his point. No. No he does not need to remind me that he's still a virgin. I can feel it through the very absence in my bits. For fuck sake Cullen, hurry up and fill me in-.

'I told you.' I repeat again but he's looking frightfully pale.

'But that couldn't have been more than three minutes?!'

'Are you counting?' I tease him, waiting patiently for the blush to taint his cheeks. It arrives quicker than I'd assumed and he once more fights to avoid looking at me, biting his lower lip to stop the smirk.

'No.'

'You don't need to freak, hon. Not all guys come so quickly.'

The moment his famous pet name rolls out my mouth, a shock of blue hits me. Followed by the oncoming rush of pink. If I'm going to try seduce him again, here's my chance. It's not going to come any sooner.

With a tiredly patient look on his face, he waits for me to do as he presumes. Move. His eyes are heavy, maybe a little watery but seem to focus on nothing but me. He is smiling, weakly and his hair is a bit crazy but, much to his ignorance, he's open to my intrusion.

'And even if they do-' I whisper, coming up to rest against his side again. He doesn't move. Not even to breathe. He's not smiling anymore, he's just perfectly still except for his eyes which follow everywhere I turn.

Starting from his left shoulder, which I'm clambered against, I slowly let my hand trail below. It's warm and I can feel each pulse in my fingertips beat against his chest and lower.

'It doesn't spoilt the fun.' I murmur against his ear.

He closes his eyes, head bent back a little but at the same time as doing that, his hand clasps mine to stop it moving any lower. For fuck sake, I'm literally getting off on pure energy between the two of us.

'Esme.' He whispers, pleadingly.

'Mm-Hmm?'

I deliberately let my hair tickle against his neck and arm. To be fair, I'm pushing his limit far beyond what is fair but he's painfully beautiful. Even when he's losing his temper or so tired, he's struggling to fight with me. I want him just as much as I do sober.

The amalgamation of our moist breath is one of the many things building the feeling in my gut and I find myself, because I'm a bad person, caressing the hand that is trapping mine. I softly rub a thumb along his finger and back again to his hand.

I think he's about to let me fall into him, like literally mouth to mouth because that's where we're positioned and his eyes are flirting with me so sweetly. However, with a quick tug he's pulling me to my feet and worse, the kitchen.

'Come on Little Miss. Let's get you sober.'

HELL FUCKING YES! Wait-.

' _Little_ _Miss_?!' I repeat repulsively. But he's still pulling me by the hand, the t-shirt slipping from my shoulder so that when he turns around, he looks like he's about to lose his calm.

Instead, he turns up the music (because the pair in my bedroom are disgustingly loud), and resets the cups on the table back to the game we were playing earlier. With one difference. The cups have water in them. Great.

But sobriety meant a snog. At the very least.

With a raised hand he offers the small ball to me and steps away.

'How about we make this interesting?' I propose, letting the ball bounce to the floor and into my hand just the once. It makes a sharp sound against the tiles. One that's going to wake me up as much as this water might.

'I'm listening?'

'For every cup scored, an item of clothing has to come off?'

He stares at me. That's all. Until the Adam's apple in his throat bobs and he takes a deep breath.

'Like strip water-pong?'

'Yeah!' I cheer enthusiastically.

'No.' He tries to hide the smile but the only place its going is the rest of his face.

'Spoil sport.'

He shrugs and indicates the table.

I'm going to be honest. I'm far more drunk than I'd hoped meaning that after many crap shots, including Carlisle's generosity in promising not to start until I score one of his glasses, I give up and push him away to drink as much of the water as possible.

Apparently even something that impressive isn't enough to satisfy him.

'There's four more cups left, Es.' He murmurs nodding to the table.

'Yeah and if I'll drink that I'll burst!' I complain and then I realise I'm singing and therefore I'm not sober. Goddammit.

'Four cups. I've seen you do that with alcohol.' He continues to play but apparently a frown is not enough of a reply.

'Nope.'

'Don't be such a baby. Drink the damn water!'

'Are you _swearing_ at me, Carlisle Cullen?!'

He rolls his eyes and steps away. 'Of course not, _dear_. Please will you finish the water?'

'Why? What's got you so keen?' I say wearily, raising an eyebrow at him. He looks like he wants to pull his hair from his head in frustration.

'I don't want you to feel crap tomorrow?'

'Hilarious.' He's so full of shit, he'd much rather I was out of it for the next two days. That way I won't be on at him and stupid things.

'Fine! I don't want to have yet another episode of ' _Guess what intoxicated-Esme did yesterday?'_ on my hands!'

'You do realise you haven't even told me what happened the last time?'

He rolls his eyes and then jumps and points to the cup. It's like watching a cartoon character get an idea.

'Drink the other four and I'll tell you.'

'Tell me and I'll drink the other four.' I suggest instead. He sighs and shakes his head, his hair flopping.

'Compromise: start drinking and I'll tell you.'

This is a stupid thing for him to suggest but I do it anyway. He waits for me to completely finish the first cup before saying anything.

'Ready?'

I wipe the excess water from my top lip and nod.

'You pretty much did the same as you're doing now except you took your clothes off and refused to put anything on.'

'Ooh, lucky you. Dinner and a show.' I tease breathlessly, continuing to drink the second glass. I had no idea how thirsty I actually was. But then, at the same time, the image of him having no choice but to see me naked had a way of making me feel expertly sexy.

I wanted to imagine the look on his face as he fought with drunk Esme for clothes. Woo. Go me.

'A show?' He says frowning.

The glass is still covering my mouth so I use a finger to point to my chest. He turns pink pretty much immediately.

'I _didn't_ look! What do you take me for, Esme?'

'An idiot!' I say once I've drained the glass. He frowns and then asks me to repeat myself.

'Excuse my bragging, but my tits are hella-fiiine. You missed out.'

'Are you criticising the fact I didn't perv on you?!' He questions, aghast. I wink at him to which he looks utterly conflicted at.

'It's hardly perverted is it?'

'No, it's _completely_ perverted. You were out of it?' He corrects, annoyed.

'Aw, don't give me that sour face. I'm more than happy to show them off _now_ but I know you'd-'

'You're drunk.' He murmurs. The tone does the translation for me. He's complaining. I on the other hand think I'm unbelievably funny.

He's staring hard at me, trying to find the words in his brain. He's just frustratedly stuttering at me as I watch him amused, continuing to blurt but nothing is happening. He's just being a twit. He doesn't even make any acknowledgment of my stupid dance moves. He just watches me.

Which is fine because I've got two cups left. I grab one and throw the contents at him so that the exterior is broken and he jumps back.

'What was _that_ for?!'

'Cold?' I ask him, poking my tongue out.

He grabs a towel and wipes his front, shaking his head at me and trying, really, really _trying_ not to smile.

'Oh lighten up Cullen, it was just a bit of fun.'

'Hilarious.' He agrees, sarcastically. 'It's not like I can do the same to you- you're wearing _white_.'

'Oh yeah?' I laugh gently and watch his frown dissemble against his smile.

'Yes.' He replies, still trying to dry himself . He doesn't want to admit it but he's going to have to take his shirt off. And he doesn't want to provoke the dragon of my pussy. Here meaning add fuel to the fire.

While his attention is distracted, I grasp the last cup and wait for his eyes to clock mine. Naturally, he moves his gaze from shirt to my face and when he does he groans.

'What are you-'

'OOOPS?!'

With a grin on my face I empty out the cup onto my chest and try not to react from the cold. From the look on his face, my t-shirt hasn't gone see-through. I look down at myself, frown initially and then laugh at myself. Even if it had, I'm wearing too many layers for it to be noticeable. Damn.

'Well that was clever, wasn't it?'

'I was _trying_ to get your attention!' I complain.

'You have my attention.' He replies and though he knows he shouldn't laugh, he has to or his face is going to split. 'You're such a _pain_ when you're drunk.'

'Fight me?'

'Change your t-shirt.'

But within seconds he takes back his demand and holds down my arms to stop me from moving.

'I meant _upstairs_.'

'Mood killer. Give me five minutes.'

'I'll give you ten.' He replies and with a gesture towards our upstairs he waits for me to make a dramatic exit. Which in this case requires me throwing his T-shirt at him from behind the wall.

* * *

Cullen's such a pain in the ass. He doesn't give me five minutes. Nor ten. He gives me fifteen. Which by rights should make a lot of sense.

It points out that Cullen is really a gentleman. He's gentle, he's thoughtful and he's careful about trusting my drunken ass. It just reinforces an enormous amount of respect I have for him and his ultimately sexy as hell face.

However. As the drunk young asshole _I_ am, I spend a lot of time parading around in his room. Naked. It's just pathetic fun at first, I think I'm being really funny and then I stop and start to judge every inch of my skin. Which is fine because I'm being relatively gentle with myself.

This isn't a euphismsm. I'm basically looking at my stomach, my legs, my arse, my tits-. It might be the alcohol but I'm feeling okay. In fact I'm just about to grab one of Carlisle's button downs when he knocks and enters, immediately after.

'So I was- _Jesus_ Esme!'

He doesn't really know what to do, just throws his hands over his eyes and turns away.

'I gave you fifteen minutes! You said you were ready!'

'Just close the door, Carlisle.' I reply with an entertaining giggle.

'Oh shit! You're so right.'

There's a bang as he goes to turn away and quite literally slams his face into the door though he still refuses to open his eyes.

'Ouch.'

'Are you okay?' I'm dying of laughter this is so Goddamn funny.

'Yeah, I'm fine. Are you decent? Can I open my eyes now?'

'Two seconds.' I murmur, still watching him.

He stands closer to the door as he closes it, every inch of him turning pink despite my giggling fit. When he speaks, his voice is thick and he's so embarrassed I'm tempted to cuddle him.

'I'm so sorry- I completely wasn't thinking-.'

'It's fine.' I say softly, still checking out his back and his legs and his butt. Fucking yum.

'Just to reiterate- I didn't see-' He starts nervously.

'I know.' I reply, laughing.

His ears are pink and the hand that's hanging down his side is fidgeting. I want to run my fingers through his hair, rub his shoulders. Make him feel better.

But I don't do that. I don't move, I simply let the shirt on my shoulders slip slowly down my skin to a puddle on the floor.

'I'm so-'

'Hon, stop panicking. You've already seen-.' I have to stop myself because I'm realising this is not the kind of shit to make him feel okay. 'It was an accident.'

He sighs once more and turns his face towards me though he's completely blind.

'Are you decent?'

I watch him gently turn around, his hands still over his face, his hair fluffy and in the way as I pull mine to the side of my neck.

'Yes.'

'Thank- For fuck _sake_ Esme!' He groans and throws his hands to his eyes again, turning quickly in a speedy jump. 'You said you were _decent_!'

'I am.'

'Eurgh! You knew I wasn't-. You know this is completely immoral of me?! If I knew this was going to happen I would have stayed downstairs!'

'Immoral?' I repeat, trying not to laugh.

'Immoral, unacceptable, completely perverted! You're _drunk_ …'

Rolling my eyes, I pick the shirt off the floor and pull it back on. He's still ranting quite a bit once I'm done, but I decide to push him even further and climb on the edge of the bed, my leg up but still widely naked.

'Alright, you can stop complaining, I'm dressed now.'

'You're completely undermining the whole point!' He complains, still afraid to open his eyes. I wait a little more, tempted to poke him but he eventually gives in and sighs, relieved. 'Believe it or not, you're still intoxicated and it's not okay-'

'Cullen?' I intervene, bored.

'And another-. What?'

'You're not looking at me?' I provoke, crossing my ankles to elongate my legs a little. His jaw falls open, his eyes start to follow the curve of my leg but he seems to realise what he's doing- gulps and turns around in a panic to which he hits his head again.

'You know why.' He mutters, rubbing his face and standing so close to the door that it's like I'm holding a gun to his back.

'I've been drunk and naked before, Carlisle. Try another one.'

'I know that! But things are-. Err. Well we've kinda been-. It's just that- urgh….You're _still_ naked?' Despite the fact that I am no longer naked, the way his nervous voice falters on the last word is a big enough ego boost for anyone.

' _Meaning_?'

'Meaning that it's inappropriate for me to look at you!' He's heating up under the pressure of my gaze and presumably my legs also because he's keeping his eyes to where I've planted my feet, afraid for movement.

But I like that. He's just revealed himself to be a legs man. And thankfully, my legs seem to be causing quite the scene.

'Because?' I continue to taunt. That does it, he's raged himself into such a stubborn stir that the attack of my calm teasing pushes him over the top.

'Because!' He closes those sparkling eyes and deliberately holds himself even tighter to the door. 'Because you're _gorgeous_!'

Heart= building.

'And?'

'Can we just stop with the-'

'And?' I repeat maliciously.

He groans, his whole body softening as he tries to find a sense of calm in his crazy sea of hormones. His neck is also particularly red, the kind of red that would normally have me assuming he's suffocating. Instead, he's squawking.

'And I'm attracted to… _you_.'

It's horrible of me to have pushed him so far, really horrible. But my insides melt all over again and I'm half tempted to steal a snog.

'See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?'

I stand up to touch his shoulder to which his whole body jumps at. I'm a little concerned at first. Maybe offended by his disgust in himself at then I realise he's breathing very rigidly.

'No comment.' He murmurs.

UNIVERSE IMPLODING.

'Cullen?' I whisper.

'Give me a few seconds, will you?'

'Cullen!'

'I'm trying to focus here!'

' _Carlisle_!'

Though he doesn't want to, he turns briefly towards me and gasps a little, snapping his eyes shut once again. I cast my eyes downwards and roll my eyes. The buttons are a little too loose and you can definitely see my cleavage. Maybe a bit more.

He's eyebrows are furrowed and he's so pink I can't ever imagine him Caucasian.

'You don't need to be embarrassed Carlisle.' I murmur, taking a gentle step towards him. He stiffens, even more I guess, and hides against the wood. I inch closer.

'It's perfectly natural-'

'It's ridiculous. It's not okay that I can't-.' He cuts his sentence short and groans again. 'You're not even consenting to this! You're completely- what are you doing?'

But grabbing the same bottle of spirit I was trying to guzzle earlier, I swing my hip a little to judge his reaction. He swallows and looks away.

'Here you are then?'

'What?

'Try it.' I encourage.

'Are you out of your mind? This is _clearly_ not what I meant!'

I push out my hip and lean on it to test him again. He forgets what he's doing. Forgets that he's gazing, forgets where his eyes are leading him- and then with a groan he remembers.

'Take the bottle, Carlisle. It's just water.'

He frowns at me, looks at the bottle and snatches it out of my hand before taking a quick swig. Gulping, he pulls the bottle from his mouth and glares at me.

'Will you _please_ stop _lying_ to me?!'

So I take back the bottle and push it to the desk, grinning.

'Now you can't consent either. We're at an impasse.'

'Esme, I'm not drunk!'

'Me either.' I grin. 'Now step away from the door before you get sperm on it.'

'Semen.'

'Excuse me?'

'Nothing- it's just that it wouldn't-. Oh for fuck sake. Why are we even having this conversation?! Stop talking about sperm!'

He's still pink and still panicking and still facing the door but at least he's stepped away from it now. While his eyes are on me, I wink at him.

'You're right. What did you want to discuss? Porn? Tits? My _wet_ pussy?'

For a millisecond, even less than that,he lets himself relent to such an idea. His knees almost fail him and the gentle stutter of breath can easily be taking for a groan.

'Not. _Helping_.' He punctuates, weakly.

'By all means, you only have to ask?'

'Es! Please, I'm trying here. If you keep going on, I'm going downstairs!'

He takes another step away from the door and breathes through his nose again. So I grab his hand and pull him until he's facing me. He's stark white now.

'Don't make you nervous, do I, Cullen?'

'N-n-no.'

'Did you want to try that again?' I offer

He's biting his lip, his breathing is crazy and even from a step away I can feel the heat of his panic flowing off him into his heartbeat and into my palm.

'Esme…' he whispers, warningly.

But for a warning, it does little to help. I link my hand with his, squeezing the damp warmth from his hands and gently tug him with me towards the bed. For once, he doesn't complain. He just gives in to desire.


	28. Reasons why nudity is a tease

_**Once more, I cannot thank you enough for the loving reviews and support. I've had so much fun with these chapters and especially the ones coming up. I think I can honestly say the next chapter was one of my favourites to write and I hope you'll see why.**_

 _ **Anyway, I'd apprecate your amazing support just as much this time round - thank you soooo much! You're all awesome!**_

* * *

'Es,' he mumbles, troublesomely, the gentle flow of his breath tripping from his lips to mine in an intoxicating rush. He's got those sapphires tightly closed as if avoiding the truth of the matter. Avoiding the fact that he can't help but to fall into my seduction. Step by step, still reluctant to abandon himself completely, he follows my sweet torture.

He _lets_ me seduce him.

I hum gently, squeezing my hands tighter into his own warms palms as though buckling myself to him. The black of his T-shirt seems to evaporate into the dark. Mainly because it's doing little in regards to moving. Tense and nervous, he knows this isn't what he _should_ be doing. He Should be holding the upper hand, he _should_ be fighting.

'Es,' he croaks again, slightly louder this time but it does nothing to stop me. How could it when he's falling so eagerly into my leadership?

I lift my head up to the perfect height, angling my mouth so neatly in conjunction to his that all he would have to do is lean and we'd be joined.

'Shh,' I hush gently. He shivers a little, surprised by the unexpected taste of my words.

My own nerves are starting to play up now, especially with the reminder that we've been a similar position before. We always get so close- and yet never close enough. I want him. I don't care if I'm intoxicated or not, I don't care if I'm not thinking straight. The most sober feeling I have coursing through my veins is the depth of how profoundly I _need_ his intimacy.

I don't just want to get off on his sexy-as-hell body. I want more and it is only under the intensity of his warmth that I realise this.

I want to have the blessing of his nudity, I want to feel his admiration, his surprise, his teasing compliments and I want them to be dedicated only to me. I need him to find me as desirable as I do him. I need him to make love to me. Not just with his body, but with all of him.

His expression shares twinges of concern, thin lines disrupting the smoothness of his forehead as he, in fear, still relies on his blindness to hide his immorality. _Immorality_. What a dumb term. Immorality for him is a blessing for me and it stings to see how conflicted he stands before my eyes.

'Please, Es.' This is a little more like a plea on my humanity.

Like another passing scratch, it catches me for a second. I think about the implications of my actions if I continue to push him over the edge. Personally, I can't see the issue. I'm more than attracted to him. My desire has already been acknowledged and referenced; taking matters into my own hands is simply a way to help speed his growth. To make him comfortable.

His fingers are hesitant to loosen their hold on mine. Even despite my hints. Eventfully, he relents, opening up both palms and letting my grip slip from his. He trembles very slightly. Not enough to be worrying but enough to remind me to be gentle. He breathes my perfume through his nose and exhales it through his mouth like a faulty car engine.

'You need to relax, Carlisle.'

Snaking one hand behind his neck, I gently weave the very ends of his light hair through to my knuckles. He's still warm, jarred by the lower temperature of my icy skin but takes no action to push me away. Statuesque and far more beautiful, he fears any further movement but doesn't reject it.

'Breathe slowly.' I soothe, gently combing through his hair, encouraging him to come-around to my close proximity. Despite himself, he smiles and does as I advise.

With my left hand, I pinch the seam of his jeans, close to where his pocket is. He jumps this time. Not violently but carefully, avoiding any kind of touch that he would deem too close for comfort. And yet those perfect teeth rake over his bottom lip. The sudden hitch of his breathing sounding exasperatingly sweet.

My boldness is the kind to frighten him off so I try to listen to my own words and stay calm. I move slowly, agonisingly slowly, teasing him and mystifying the tone between us.

'Live a little?' I add, joyfully. His eyebrows look fiercer but the corner of his mouth twitches playfully and it's enough of a green light for me to go ahead.

My left hand trails the seam up: a simple fingertip against the line of his thigh, drawing up and stopping at his belt. The frown becomes worrisome. So I move my hand to his T-shirt hem and delicately drop my right hand, lightly scratching my nails against the curve of his spine so that he shivers beneath my touch. Teeth bite harder.

Tugging the shirt free from his pants, I wait for him to relax a little before continuing. His breath is hot now, burning my tongue. Rich with potential.

My hands are cold. Which he inevitably feels when I place them in the hollow of his bare back, but the skin-to-skin contact seems to loosen his panic. It doesn't loosen mine. The way his smoothness excites is enough for me to kill over with delight. The fierce eyebrows have changed to confusion and though he is still biting his lip, he doesn't shy away from my touch.

If anyone is freaking out, it's me. The silence of the room seems to amplify my needy panting and desperate for the ecstasy of his tantalising body against my own, I immerse myself in his whole scent. But I quickly become greedy. His breath, his cologne, his beauty, and his silk soft skin is driving me crazy. So acting passionately and irrationally, I rake my nails up the sides of his back and expertly separate the cotton from the cool. A clammy hand coming to his torso.

He arches his spine towards me, shivering a little but falling victim to my charms. With the back of his shirt looped so far up his back, he quickly understands my instruction. Still with tightly closed eyes, and with the addition of my impatience, he fiercely pulls off his shirt and gasps for the relief of air.

Fucking hell. I creaming myself, I swear to God.

I've never been in this position before. But for a second, I'm so astutely nervous. I don't know what to do. My own blood sugar seems to joke and though I have one more layer on than him, and though the heat radiating from the both of us is enough to fuel Canada, I shudder all over.

'You're gorgeous, Carlisle…'

'I'm disgusting.' He replies and it's obvious that he's referring to his actions rather than his genuine attractiveness. Which is so fucking stunning, I'm actually drooling.

I don't know where to put my hands at first. Now I have the extensive freedoms of his whole torso, I'm lost in riches. I want to consume every fine molecule, I want to savour it and devour it simultaneously.

Though it feels like eternity, my brain soon kicks in and spontaneously, as an act of true compulsion, I place my hand over his heart.

It's heavy, erratic but ever so beautiful and when I place another hand to my own chest to compare the rhythms, I realise they're both out of pattern. We are both as nervy as the other. That's a sobering thought

He's naturally warm anyway, so to be touching his core processer is like holding my hands to a warm fire. The closer I get to him, the more addicted I am to the feeling.

'Heart rates a bit high.' I murmur, shyly looking up to register his beauty. I jump. I didn't expect the dark hit of his navy eyes to be staring back at me. Especially after he's spent so long pretending not to be aware of what's going on around him.

'Breathing's bit irregular, too.' He chuckles, seeming to exemplify his meaning as he speaks. It reminds me to listen to my own breathing. Quiet but heavy and totally undetectable in response to him.

'I think I must need a doctor.' I joke, kinking up an eyebrow.

He wrinkles his nose, a smile of his face as he smooths the waves of my hair. It's a gentle movement. Calming and totally capable of silencing my concerns in ways I'd never thought to imagine. He's gentle and focused, making my skin stand on edge and my nerves tingle.

'Not your best line.'

He keeps his eyes on my lower lip, tempted by the impossible. I try to lean a little more into him, to persuade him, to seduce him with my eyes and open mouth. But he's impertinent. In that he's _not_ impertinent. He's gentlemanly and doesn't do as I ask to close the space between us.

My hand is still taking in his heartbeat, winding me down the more he calms, and sucking me into his chemicals. Flooding my brain with them. I move my hand, letting it trace his body, to follow the definitions of his athleticism- oh fuck me, he's ridiculously hot.

The frown has returned, as has the closed eyes and bitten lip but I can hardly take it offensively. His chin is tilted to the opposite way from my face as though he's fighting the temptation to groan in my face. I can't hold it anymore. I pull him to me with one hand, flatten myself tightly against him and surround myself on his hissing reprimands. To himself this time, they're not directed at me.

To be honest, I'm failing to hear what he's groaning about. I've just had to stop myself from announcing my own dirty vocalisations from the simple touch of his naked ass torso to this crappy button down.

'Es,' he complains tightly, gushing out a breath as though he's suffocating.

I can't wait any longer. I'm wet and pulsing. Any kind of touch from him is like I'm on the edge and even if he refuses to deliver, I need to satisfy this fire. Slipping my right hand down even further, I take a firm hold of his belt buckle and nearly moan in delight when his resistance from it falls flat and he groans once more.

I love his expressions. They were hot for all the right reasons. They were forbidden, they were dangerous and they are completely involuntary. Every time he groaned, he did it because he had to. Because that was his natural reaction, often followed by an act of restraint or repentance.

Still with a grip on his belt buckle, I drag him back into my torso, and make a show of wetting my lips with a wet tongue. He fights not to look but that doesn't matter much considering I have my mouth to his throat, in place of where I planning to kiss him. Simple, quick but effective enough that he won't want to keep his hands off me.

But it's better to do that sort of thing in bed.

So I wrap my left hand at his neck, tease him with my excessive flirting and breathing. Consuming all of him, reacting and bowing to his vocal contributions, I deliver the praise he so rightly deserves in turning me on to excruciating levels.

I'm about to pull him back with me, to fall hard onto the bed where I'll straddle him. I'm not wearing panties but that'll be an advantage I think- he'll want me grinding on him. That'll get him hot for me. Any kind of release I can provide is going to help. And I need the release as bad as he does.

But just as I'm about to pull us back, he grabs me by the hip and pulls us in the opposite direction so that I stumble into him. My breathing hitches, the touch of his hand in such a close area makes my stomach tense.

Then I catch a glimpse of his face. He's gone. Completely distracted from whatever I might have had in mind.

Oh no.

Oh please God no. We were so fucking close? For fuck sake he's got his shirt off?! I was seconds away from heaven for fuck sake!

His whole expression is curiously perturbed and pulling me aside, suddenly unware of his lack of shirt and my lack of anything but a shirt, he moves to inspect the middle of the bed. With a gentle movement, he pushes me out of sight for a moment.

'Its fine, Carlisle?' I complain rather bitchily but I have every right. His whole focus is lost and he is completely unaware of our very near happening!

'Hold on?'

His nose is to the sheet like Inspector Holmes. The illusion is gone. Fantastic. He inspects the duvet, staring hard at it for a few seconds before rubbing a flat palm across the top and pulling it back sharply. Rubbing a thumb across the inside of his hand, he frowns.

'Can we _please_ just-'

'Come here.' He instructs solidly and I'm so relieved that I'm sure I'm going to snog him-

He doesn't let me get close enough to try. Instead, he nods to the cover, pulls it aside and reveals a stack of push pins scattered on the inside of the bedding. Cool?

'Forget the bed. We'll use the floor?' Please, please, _please_?

'You're not even _slightly_ concerned that there's pins in our bed?' He accuses, raising a flirting eyebrow and for a second I'm so stuck in mourning my loss of opportunity that I nearly miss his point.

Our bed?

 _OUR_ bed?

He's referring to his bed as OURS?!

Oh my God, that is the most adorable thing I have heard in my entire life. Our bed, huh? Ours? Like, to share? I could share it now for sure. Maybe even more so because he's so sweet and thoughtful and adorable and oh my fucking God I just want to ride him so hard, he forgets his own fucking name.

'Esme?'

'Wha-what?'

He points to the offending items and frowns hard, contemplating his following sentence. With a sigh, he announces it loudly.

'Didn't you make an accusation earlier about a certain person _snooping_?'

'Point being?' I retort sourly. He guffaws and rubs his tired eyes with his thumb, letting his hair flop into his view and positively DESTROYING OUR EVENING.

'We could've been stabbed?'

'It's hardly worth complaining about Carlisle, it's not a knife is it?'

Fucking hell, you had to do it. You had to be that curious bastard. Fuck my fucking life.

'Okay, okay.' He agrees with a grin, walking away from the bed to pull on a shirt from his chest of drawers. It's such a small act but now I think I'm genuinely going to cry. Goodbye hope. Goodbye prospect. Goodbye chance of seduction. Hello sexual frustration and general annoyance.

'But where would she get pins from?' He announces randomly, looking accusingly at his room.

'I don't know, Carlisle. The hardware store?!'

He lets his eyes go guilty to the floor and then sheepishly surveys my temper. It's not going good.

'I'm sorry…' He says softly, trying to offer a smile as a peace offering. He can shove his peace offering up his fucking rear and retrieve it through his mouth for all I care. For fuck sake, why don't you just attach nipple clamps to me for the rest of my life?!

EURGH!

'Just be honest- Did you have any _intention_ of sleeping with me?!' I demand emotively, trying not to fall to the temptation to throw the nearest fucking object at that obnoxiously big head of his.

His eyes widen and he genuinely stumbles over his words ' _Es_?!'

'Well did you?!' FUCKING Hell you _coward_ , answer the fucking point?!

He looks down again, pink in his face and more than just embarrassed. I should be feeling pretty sympathetic. I know the troubles of sex. I'm here to support him. But my God, it would be so much nicer if he would just give me a straight fucking answer! I'm throwing everything I've got at him right now- why doesn't he want me?!

'I don't know…' he mumbles quietly. 'Potentially? But-'

'EURGH! Rub my face in it why don't you?! Fucking hell, that's so irritating!'

His mouth twitches slightly but he continues to focus on looking at me as though he owes me the fucking world. Which to be honest, is just the beginning of it all.

'Am I assuming correctly when I predict sex is now _completely_ off the table?'

Fuck those gorgeous eyes.

'I _really_ am sorry…' He sighs honestly, tempted to stand next to me but he quickly abandons that idea on the state of my-. Well fucking everything really. I was moments away from pushing this naked body up to his.

I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO CRY MY EYES OUT.

''Herpes', remember?'He uses his fingers to make the playful quotatio marks.

It's just a metaphor you bell-end!

'Fuck herpes, we would've used a condom!' I wait a few seconds to see if I'll realise how much of a twat I'm being and apologise. Nope. Nothing. Still bitter.

Unlike that twat over there who is laughing at me.

'Hon, listen. I really am sorry but you _are_ drunk. I shouldn't have let it escalate to that and I take full responsibility-'

'You don't need to take responsibility! Just fucking snog me!'

… oh great.

Well done genius. How to get someone to really like you; yell abuse at them and demand they share their DNA. Great one. Fucking brilliant. He stays very still, eyeing the spot on the floor where my bare feet are and watching them carefully. When he looks up, he looks wrought with frustration.

'Maybe it is best if I stay downstairs tonight?' He suggests, slowly and once more I want to hit him upside the head with metal chains.

'What and leave me with the pins? Thanks.'

'It's just weird considering I don't even know where she got them. Unless they're from my desk but-.' He looks up and spots that I'm still glaring. 'You're right, perhaps I should leave that for tomorrow.'

As angry as I am, there's one thing that is fighting with my insides. I don't want to sleep alone, of course I don't. But I _really_ don't want to be without Carlisle. Especially after tonight.

'You're not _really_ going downstairs are you?' I ask, avoiding facing up to how degrading and fucking lame I really am.

'Pardon?'

'You. Are you really going to go downstairs?'

Jeeez, when did downstairs turn into the abyss?

'Do you want me to?' He asks nervously.

'Do _you_ want to?'

'No.'

No. Good. Than Fuck.

'I guess we could watch a film or something?' I suggest lamely, pulling at my eyelid to seem just as vibrant as I was earlier but he's caught me like a hawk and grins.

'Bit late for that, don't you think?' He murmurs and per accident, he lets his eyes take in my legs. The little shake of realisation he gives himself is so violent, I'm wondering how he's trying to persuade himself that he's perfectly calm. 'Why don't you just let me clear these pins away and we can get some sleep? It's been a hectic night?'

You don't bloody say.

But because I am tired and angry and frustrated- I can't find the energy to deal with further rejections of the night.

Neither can he. He swallows thickly, scoots the mass of pins from the bed with a swipe and empties out his hand into his semi-open bedside table. Fuck. I thought I'd closed that-.

Holy shit, I hope I put that book back?! His expression is uninterested when he turns and declares the area danger-free. But now he's realised I've sank to the floor by the bed, my eyes heavy and my whole sense of worth-.

He raises an eyebrow.

'Well, sure our carpets are _great_. But you know as well as I do, the bed is better?'

I think I'm meant to smile. Or laugh. Or even wink at him. But his stare goes right through me.

'Not nauseous are you?'

I shake my head.

'Giving me the well-deserved silent treatment?' He urges, a timid grin lighting his face. My body makes no effort to move. My organs turn to rock and I'm bombarded with a sense of haggard distress.

The bed softly whines to accustom his weight as he sits on the corner by my shoulders, his hands clasped by his knees.

'I'm a mess, aren't I?' I say soberly, still staring at his chest of drawers.

I hear him hesitate, reach out to me and pull his hand back again like I haven't seen.

' _I_ don't think so….'

'Not asking for you to be polite, Carlisle.'

'No, I know. I guess things are a little bit messy _at the moment_ but that doesn't make you the problem.'

'Really?' I guffaw in disbelief.

'I shouldn't have led you on. It wasn't fair of me.'

At the very least.

'I shouldn't have tried to seduce you.' I add. He tries to smile but it doesn't reach his eyes. The hands by his knees are still fidgeting. 'I've never been rejected by anyone other than you, it's a little infuriating.'

He nods slightly and breathes in. 'I can't imagine.'

'Can't?'

' _Can't_.' He confirms. 'I can't see why in any world you'd choose the most inexperienced shit to want to…sleep with. Half the time I can't even see why you want to hold a conversation with me. I piss myself off.'

That was a bit of a word vomit. But I suspect he knows that because he's shaking his head at himself.

'You don't like yourself?' I realise.

'Do you like _yourself_?' He asks softly. The point resonates with me so poignantly that I sigh.

'Are you joking? Look how many times I've fucked up _today_ , not to mention the whole week. I fucking despise myself.'

When I look up to him, I see he's got a tough expression on his face, like he's both surprised and afraid of my reaction to yet another rejection. All I'm blaming is that face. I can't be mad at him. He's making sense.

'Again, I you wouldn't. You amaze me in how calm you're being.'

'You don't think I'm coping.' I surmise, eyeing him carefully. He grimaces.

'It's one of my theories. But only because I can't see how. As much as it grieves me to know it, I'd find so much satisfaction in causing major harm-…' The breath he forces himself to expiate is a difficult one and he rubs his eyes again like a distraction.

'Well, maybe we'll do the self-appreciation for the other. I like you plenty enough to cover your insecurities.'

'Naturally, I would say the same for you. Not exactly healthy though, is it?' He smiles gently.

'Well you're the doctor. You'll help us out.'

'I guess I had that coming…'

'Carlisle?' I say gently.

'Yes?'

'I think I'd quite like to sleep now…'

He nods and moves off the duvet, extending an arm to help me off the floor but I embarrassingly crumble a little and turn pink.

'Except- I'm kinda not wearing underwear…'

This sounded so much better when I thought I was getting him laid.

He exhales through his nose, his shoulders slumping as he rubs the corner of his eye and smiles.

'Would you like me to turn around or would you like to borrow something?'

I shrug at first but then I rub the sides of my arms, realising at last that it's actually kind of cold in here.

'I think I probably quite like to borrow something?'

It'll mean that at the very least he won't be afraid to sleep next to me. He nods politely and goes searching in his top drawer for the first thing he can put his hands on and then he stops, a harsh laugh cutting from his mouth as he groans.

'What's the matter?' I ask from the floor. Because, I can't trust my drunken feet to not expose me right now and it's just one of those things that I feel will be a hindrance rather than a help.

'Nope.'

'That's not an answer, Carlisle?'

'No.' He agrees, light-heartedly. 'And yet, I have nothing to offer you, I'm so sorry.' He turns where I'm sitting on the floor and makes a face. 'Remind me to keep all office supplies out of my bedroom?'

'What does that-'

But he interrupts my question with the raise of his hand, opening his palm and sprinkling various uneven patterns of different material to the floor. URGH.

'Have you checked-'

'My T-shirt drawer is fine.' He says jovially. I'm genuinely surprised he's feeling calm enough to smile at me. Pins in the bed. Underwear cut to shreds. I'd be pretty much freaked by now…

'Medical journals?' I'm sounding panicked.

'Downstairs, they're fine. Just the luxuries, it would seem. Fantastic.'

'Are you okay?' I ask wearily.

'Sure, would you like me to check in the washing for something for-'

'Nah, just turn around, that'll be fine.' I can't be dealing with effort right now, I just want to sleep.

'I'm really sorry?'

'Turn around Carlisle.'

He winces, smiles awkwardly and turns on his heel to babble various apologies while I quickly button up the rest of his shirt and hide beneath the sheets on his bed. Considering these are the best covers in the whole world and they're very existence is enough to warm me, I'm surprised by the violent shudder that takes over me. This time, it's not excitement or nerves or utter desire- I'm genuinely cold.

'Can I look?'

'Yep.'

' _Really_?'

Guess I only have myself to blame for those insecurities.

'Yes Carlisle, I'm under the duvet.'

He laughs gently, makes a cautious turn and semi-relaxes when he sees how far I've nestled myself. I'm so tired, I can't imagine ever wanting to get up tomorrow-on the start of my ten-day holiday! Woo.

He takes his time looking around the room without really looking, checking out electrics and whatever before turning the light off and climbing next to me. _On_ the sheets.

'Are you still wearing your jeans?'

He really is paranoid.

I feel him nod and then similarly shudder. 'Firstly, it seems most appropriate. Secondly, it's weirdly cold in here.'

'Can't fight with that logic.'

Perhaps he can hear the strain of ffort it takes just for me to make a smart arse comment becuse I feel him turn to me and whisper:

'Sleep well, Hon.'

My eyes are closing before I want them to. I'm slipping off before I want to. I want to snuggle up to him, even if he's lying _on_ the bed rather than in it. I just want to listen to him a bit more. But I'm drifting off. Too late now.

'FUCK.'

Shitting hell. I jump up in a fright and lean away from Carlisle's shaking frame.

'What? What's up- are you okay?!'

He pushes a hand out to me to slow my alarm but he's the one who'se just vaulted me out of a death-bed. I breathe wearily before leaning over to see where he's got his focus engaged.

'Eurgh, I went to turn the alarm clock off and she's thrown it through the window!'

I peer behind the headboard of the bed, where he's sat up, gripping his jaw shut but inevitably laughing. There's a small shattered pane of window glass littering the frame and the floor below. I can't see outside but I guess it's not worth it. It's fairly obvious that's where the missing clock has travelled to.

'I'm really-'

'Don't. Don't even apologise. You do and I think I'm going to go loopy.' He laughs again and throws his head down to the pillow beside me and sniffs.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm okay. Are _you_ okay?'

Though I'm nodding and letting myself hide in the covers again, I'm struggling to lie to him.

'Bit shaken up. Admittedly…'

'Sorry. I can sleep downstairs if you'd like?'

'I think now more than ever I need you in here.' I confess, lying my face to the pillow and breathing out in the same rhythm as him. I hear him turn my way and then back again, unsure.

'In that case, I'm not going anywhere. I'll keep you-'

Outrageously, during one of our final moments of peace, when at last I can feel myself gradually sobering up and calming down. _Then_. At this precise moment. Under his security, within his proximity, around his warmth. In the moment of serenity and reconciliation.

This is when further grunts and groans and bedspring sounds emanate from the room next to this one.

'For _fuck_ sake!'

But extending an arm back, I carefully take a gentle hold of his hand. If I can't snag a cuddle off him, which I don't exactly blame him for, the very least I'm going to do is hold him.

'Goodnight, Carlisle.'

* * *

I don't know what it is. Considering the moment my head touched the pillow, I was out. But now I'm awake. I'm awake and I don't know why I'm awake because my body and my brain are screaming for sleep and it's still dark outside.

Despite how cold it was, the room is warm now. Even a little stuffy maybe and though I was turned away from him, I decide turning towards where Carlisle is lying will give me a new comfort.

He's breathing heavily. So heavily in fact that I first think something's wrong. I peer up to stare at his back. He's sweating, soaked through his white t-shirt, the back of his hair wet and dripping sweat onto his pink neck. His body is tense, too and he keeps almost jittering. It sounds like he's holding his breath.

I'm legitimately really worried. To the point that I'm coming to wake him up when his hip juts so forcefully, he falls from the edge of the bed to the floor with a thump.

I don't know what it is that makes me do it. Instinct I guess, but I pretend to be asleep, letting my eyes stay closed and listening to see if he's okay.

He's panting, exhausted but also clearly awake as he makes a few aggravated groans to himself followed by a series of whispered curses. He throws his back against the bedside, leaning his head back, his eyes resting close as he tries to gather his breath.

'Es?'

I don't say anything, just continue to pretend to be far involved in my act of unconsciousness to the world to hear him.

'Thank God.' He mutters and laughing gently he wipes the sweat of his forehead and sighs. 'Had to be tonight. Of course it _had_ to happen tonight.'

Coming up closer, he rubs a hand along the cover where he was laying. Paranoid obviously, as he grossly becomes aware of just how warm he was.

I keep my eyes shut. I pretend not to know and then I hear him softly pad out the room, followed by the run of the shower. At something ridiculous like three in the morning. He takes a while in the shower- I don't want to think about why in case I get weirdly jealous and turned on again but I still listen out for him. I'm sat up, waiting, slumped against the headboard, eyes heavy when eventually I hear the door close.

'Shit. I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you.'

'Are you okay?' I ask, yawning and trying hard to keep my eyes open.

He's stood in the middle of the room, a towel tied tightly around his waist, exposing that perfect 'V' and the other beauties of his body. Blonde doesn't stand out well in the dark so that here it could be anything from a golden orange to a grey but again, I'm tired. He's still cute though.

'Hmm Mm.' He says, hiding his pink cheeks with his hand. 'It's unexpectedly warm, tonight. I was soaked through.'

'Mmm.' I muse tiredly.

'In sweat I mean!'

'Huh?'

'Huh?! Er? Nothing, sorry… yeah, sorry I didn't mean to wake you.'

He absent mindedly opens his underwear draw, puts a hand in and groans. That's wise. He's lucky he's just a hazy line in my vision or he'd be really embarrassed.

When I wake myself up again from the drop of my head to my chest, I find he's sat on the corner of the bed, still in a towel. He's glaring at something on the floor.

'Carlisle?'

'Hmm?'

'Just come to bed?' I plead sleepily. Even with both eyes closed I see him panic.

'Will do.'

He stands from his seat, turns to me nervously but believing that my eyes are closed carefully drops his towel.

I'm gutted. So fucking gutted. His arse is biteable, cute as hell and sexy but I can't see the main attraction. Actually that might be a good thing- I'm so tired right now that something like that sounds really unwise. He's still rustling about a bit, making a bit of fuss and noise when I cautiously open an eye again.

'Cullen.' This time he's got to know I'm no longer impressed.

'Mmm?' He turns over his shoulder to me embarrassed but I have both eyes closed for real this time.

'What the fuck are you doing?'

'…My boxers.'

'So?' I interrupt.

'Well, all my joggers are in the washing machine still…'

'Carlisle?'

'Yes?' he asks sheepishly.

'Just get into bed.'

'But I-er. Well. It's just…'

'Sleep in the nude?' I answer, rolling over and taking the cover with me.

'What about if it gets cold?'

Are you kidding me right now? Just get into bed so I can fall asleep!

'Then get under the covers?' I answer, irritably.

'But-.'

'I'm not going to touch you. I'll be over here.'

'No offense intended-.'

'JUST LIE DOWN WILL YOU?!'

He stutters at first and then laughs nervously, peeking over to me once he lays down. For his sake. Literally just his, no one else's, especially not mine, I keep my eyes shut.

And what pisses me off more than the fact he disturbed my sleep, is how little him naked doesn't disturb it. I sleep peacefully, evenly and don't wake up again till late next morning.

* * *

Next morning unfortunately comes sooner than I'd like. I'm so comfortable in my little cocoon of blankets, nestled tightly into the radiator I'm apparently laying on.

I hear the door slam open and a genuine gasp but I'm exhausted so I bury myself further into whatever I'm lying on, letting my hair hide my face as I squeeze myself to the silk touching against my skin.

The door closes again.

And I don't open my eyes till much later in the day towards afternoon.

My phone is going off. For reasons I don't want to know but Carlisle moves from around me to silence it. My gratitude extends my attention. I sigh again and cover my eyes with my arm.

In the blink of an eye, a warm hand is being held against my shoulder, shaking gently.

'Coffee is on the side, Hon.'

I whimper a little before pulling my heavy head from the pillow and groaning. I feel dizzy and weak and completely out of it. This room is spinning like mad.

'Hey, Sleeping Beauty.'

Oh Jesus I'm suffering from cotton mouth so badly that I'm going to die. I pull myself up properly and glare until my sight comes into focus. The coffee is stinging my nose. So is some other clean smell. Soap? Peppermint?

Thrusting out a hand to the table, a cup is gently placed in my grip and in silence, he patiently waits for me to take a gulp.

'Are you okay? Need any pills?'

'I'm fine, Carlisle.' I complain groggily and letting the liquid burn my tongue, I make a face of disgust.

The thought of coffee is making me feel sick. I don't want coffee, I don't want the thought of coffee. For nine days, I want the existential reminder that I am not working.

'And your head?'

'Fine.' I murmur, rubbing at my eyes.

He's sat on the edge of the bed on his side, dressed in a button down and jeans. Not the same jeans as last night, light blue ones that remind me of summer.

'No work?'

He shakes his head. 'Nope. Day off. Though I've got to go into town and see if I can get that window fixed.'

Nodding to the space behind my head, he smiles in annoyance. I'd forgotten about that.

'Oh. Yeah.'

'I wondered if you were going to Yoga. I'd be happy to give you a-'

'Wait, didn't she wreck your underwear, too?'

His light hair slips awkwardly into his eyes and he rubs an impatient hand through to push it aside.

'Yeah. I'm pleasantly surprised you remember.'

'An elephant never forgets.'

'Elephant?'

'It's a reference to my weight.'

He groans and turns his head away from me. 'Esme, you're fine. Maybe even underweight if anything, we've had this conversation.'

'Don't get whiny with me, Cullen. It's only a joke.'

'Not a funny one.'

I smirk a little and scratch at my hair line. Yoga would be good. It would wake me up for sure.

'Anyway, Alice and Jasper left early. She's been phoning since nine. Said she'll meet you at the hall. _If_ you'd like to go.'

I hve a feeling that last bit is his own addition. My eyes scan the room for the alarm clock and then I remember and roll my eyes. Thankfully Cullen has his watch on his wrist so I grab it and tilt my head to read the time.

'Aw, shit. I better get ready.'

'I'll be downstairs.' He answers, giving me even more space and crossing his floor with soft steps.

He had to wake up before me, didn't he? He just had to get dressed. Goddammit. Though even from here I can see he's not as comfortable as he'd like. Going commando in jeans will do that to you though. He scratches his jaw, nods to me and goes to close the door behind him.

'Hey Carlisle?'

When he opens the door, he's frowning curiously.

'What now?' He says playfully, leaning his weight on the door as he shyly watches my face. Without meaning to let it, I feel my grin take up my face and just in an effort to hide my lame smile, I put the coffee to my mouth.

'Didn't you promise to kiss me, today?'

He fights to hide his own smile before shrugging playfully and closing the door. I hear him lightly descend the steps with the sound of his light chuckling flowing up the stairs.


	29. Reasons why patience is a virtue

_**To start with- this is my favourite chapter so far.**_

 _ **It's been my favourite to write and to read and I can only hope you see why!**_

 _ **If you could be so kind as to share your thoughts with this chapter, I'd be hella- grateful! And as always, thank you so much for your continuous support. In returns, this one is a long one and it's up earlier than I'd planned!**_

* * *

The fact that even after _personally_ speaking with Carlisle to confirm I'm on my way, Alice _still_ feels the need to phone me - is seriously winding me up. My hair is a state and there's nothing I can do other than tie it behind me and hope it'll do. My trainers are scuffed from Wednesday's hike, my joggers are feeling weirdly too loose for me and the only shirt I have to wear is a freaking sports bra.

Which is why I shouldn't forget to do the washing.

I wash my face, brush my teeth and grab my purse and phone, without answering it, before bounding down the stairs in a jump.

Carlisle is sat on the sofa, leg folded over the other, wearing his black jacket and reading the newspaper though it's not bringing any interest

'Time check?' I ask, running through to the kitchen to search through our washing pile. It takes several panicked moments to eventually find something appropriate but I grab it and pull it over my head.

'Five minutes before we have to leave.'

I grab the juice cartoon from the fridge, fill a glass and drain it in a few seconds. We haven't got a lot of food left, especially where we fed so many people last night. All my left overs are starting to disturb my nose. I dump them in the trash with a grimace. I guess that means shopping then.

Rushing around still, I grab a towel and shower stuff in my gym bag and throw it to the arm chair. Done, ready. Fantastic.

My phone rings again and despite my jitteriness, I answer it to shut her up.

'If you wanted to talk to me _so_ bad- you wouldn't have left early!' I say by way of greeting.

'Have you even _left_ yet?!'

Cullen can hear her perfectly well and with a smile, he rises and drops the paper to the sofa, jingling his keys to announce he's ready.

'Yes, we're just leaving.'

' _We_?'

'I'll see you there!' I hold the end call button and run down the porch steps. He unlocks the car from where he's standing and locks the front door, skipping a few steps to reflect my urgency.

'You just locked Edward in.' I murmur, clipping my seat belt into place. He starts up the engine, winds down his window and shakes his head.

'Nah, they left with Alice. Breakfast apparently.'

The car journey won't be a long one but while I have a chance, I take in how he's feeling today. Shy, according to how he avoids looking at me full on. But calm and thoughtful. He's back to his normal complexion. No rosy panic to highlight his face nor protruding slap to burn his cheeks. His eyes are bright and piercing, his nose thin and long and his smile incredibly patient.

'Breakfast?' I ask, confused.

'That's what their note said.'

He spots my look and gently titters. 'I wouldn't take it to heart, we _were_ asleep.'

'You mean _I_ was.'

Like I said, Cullen never sleeps in. He never relaxes, he sticks to his pattern.

'No. I was, too.' He peaks in the rear view mirror then to me. 'For quite a long time as well. I was pleasantly surprised.'

'How long were you awake before you woke me up?'

I _am_ glad he woke me up. Even if I didn't seem grateful at the time, I hate feeling like I've wasted a day. Especially a Saturday.

'No more than an hour.' He promises.

An hour? Wow, that's not bad? He actually did sleep well.

'So you _didn't_ go for a run?' What happened to the pattern? He's completely messed up his schedule?

'Not today. Wouldn't have been wise without...' he stops his sentence and laughs gently, eyes dropping sweetly to the crotch of his pants. Our toothpaste is pleasantly stinging my nostrils.

'Oh.'

'Mmm.'

'Carlisle?'

'Yes?'

We're not far from the yoga class now. No more than a street away. My bravery seem to shake a little and I'm struggling to look at him without feeling like a total villain.

'I'm...urm… _Sorry_ for last night?' My bumbling words make even worse of a noise as I find myself looking at my nails.

'Why?'

I blush a little and squint to try and take away from my embarrassment. It's overcast but the chance of a warm sunny day is so close that I hope for it greedily. I don't even want to admit that I hate how clingy I was- I don't want to draw any more attention to my sad life.

'I wasn't exactly very nice. I shouldn't have made you uncomfortable.'

The way he drives has me fawning over him. He's so at one with the vehicle, every movement flowing into another without needing his attention. But he does pay attention. He takes notice of everything. He'd be a driving instructor's wet dream.

Oh. Wet dream….

We're both fighting smiles.

'You didn't make me uncomfortable, Esme?'

Characteristically, I laugh out loud and then apologise for my rash interjection.

'I wasn't _uncomfortable_.' He clarifies, carefully. 'Panicky, maybe? Over-reacting? Sure. Completely nervous? For definite!'

'I shouldn't have put you in that position. It was cruel of me.'

He grimaces and eventually laughs.

'Okay, I'll give you that. It _was_ probably the longest night of my life. And I'm not impressed that I've lost underwear and an alarm-clock over it. I guess it was worth it though? I mean, here we are? We survived.'

He parks up right to the doors of the hall and faces me silently.

'Don't be embarrassed?' He pleads.

'I'm not embarrassed.' I answer sullenly. 'I'm ashamed.'

He inhales through his nose and smiles again, breathing evenly. 'Well don't be ashamed either? The only reason, absolute _only_ reason I didn't go through with it is because you were drunk.'

'That's the only reason?' I question suspiciously.

'I promise you.'

Disbelieving every lush word from that pretty mouth of his, I push open the car door, preparing to run indoors.

'You're full of crap but thanks for trying.' I murmur softly. He rolls his eyes, flicking the engine on with his hand and making a face at digital numbers on his dashboard.

'I'll pick you up in about an hour.'

'Good, I need to go shopping. Running low on food.'

It's weird that I don't include him in the sentence but he hasn't noticed. Unfortunately though, I have noticed. I know what that means. I know what it completely stands for if I'm seconds away from begging him not to drive away. It means he's got to go to Alaska.

'Es?'

Why is stupid things such as his fucking _voice_ enough to make me want to lay against him? Just some kind of contact. Anything.

'Yes babe- _Hon_ \- Er. Shit. Carlisle?! Yes, _Carlisle_?'

He reels back slightly, raising an eyebrow at me as I try not to look like a complete invalid. Too late. I'm a twit. He smirks, blue eyes hitting me in the face until they drop to my hands.

'You've got toothpaste on your lip.' Leaning over, he drags a thumb from the corner of my mouth to the middle of my lip, his fingertips dragging softly against my cheek as I fall against him slightly.

And I was doing so good to just be moderately attracted to him, this morning. Now I'm back to wanting to ravish him-. Urgh.

'You better go.'

'Uh.' I mutter dazedly, breathing in a stutter to his hand. He smiles beautifully and pulls away, gesturing behind me.

'Alice is on her way.' He warns, playfully.

'Eurgh. I'll see you later-'

No. Come back?

It's too late. Once I begrudgingly pull myself to the safety of the pavement, he puts the car in the correct gear and drives off. I regret this fucking class.

* * *

Alice is still clearly in a stage of intoxication because she's overly giggling as she clings into my arm and pulls me towards the hall. Blondie and Bella are there, Bella looking like hell and Blondie looking like a bloody sports advert.

'Tell all!' Alice demands once we've arranged ourselves in the hall. I suspect she wasn't intending to drag Blondie and Bella in on this conversation but she shouts that loudly that both of them turn around, confused.

It's busier in here today. There's a lot of people and the instructor at the front is having to yell so that her grating nasally voice turns my ear drums to vomit.

'What?' I ask, settling out the matt and stretching my leg over the other. The clicking of my spine creeps me out and I shudder quickly.

'Don't ' _what'_ me, tell me everything. I want an explanation!'

The bitch in me snorts.

'You gunna explain about Edward slapping-'

'Do I need to?!' She asks impatiently and more than genuinely asking, it's clear this is an attempt to dismiss my interjections.

'Someone needs to.' I mutter, continuing to point and stretch my legs as encouraged.

'Stop stalling, you slag and bring me up to speed!'

It's very casual for Alice and I to emphasis our love of eah other by way of insults. However today, it catches me off guard and I find myself staring at the wall trying very hard not to take this jab personally. The instructor's pitch gets higher, clearly a hint for my buddy over here to stop blabbering so loud but for a hint it matters nothing. Alice had this class wrapped around herself twice over. She's an expert to every move and can do it without thinking.

In front, Rose giggles a little. It makes the hairs on my neck stand on edge.

'Speed on _what_?' I hush back, still annoyed that she's chosen to insult me so openly when I'm clearly not in the mood.

I can't be in any kind of mood other than misery. Not if I'm going to persuade Carlisle to flounce of for a week. He has to, it's for work. He can't simply _not_ go. He's wasting such an amazing opportunity. I'm not going to be the person to hold him back. The preparation for this matter however is a painful thought. Regardless of how much I would see him in a usual week, which is next to not at all most months, the loss of his presence is going to suck.

'Seriously?! Do you really not even _love_ me anymore?'

'Cut the crap and get to the point!' I complain breathily, pushing against my tiptoes to find my unsteady balance.

'Carlisle and you!' She hisses and it's enough of a tone to push me right over.

Bella looks relieved that she's not the only one falling about but also pink in the cheeks and in a physical pain attributed to her sense of humiliation. For once, I'm sharing it.

'What are you on about, there _is_ no Carlisle and me?!' I say that with _so_ much conviction that I don't even believe myself.

For fuck sake, stop rubbing my nose in it. She's got her fun, she's got a partner. Can't she just leave me alone?

She guffaws loudly and gets told off by the lady at the front. She's got it in for me. Not the instructor. Alice. Alice is going to kill me. Luckily enough, she stays silent for the rest of the session. Curiously looking over to me every two seconds in case I give myself away. I'm lucky enough that I'm flushed due to the rush of blood in my veins and not just how badly I want to be eaten up by the floor.

* * *

It's a horrible hour. Mainly because I can't do anything without being on surveillance by my best friend. I'm near death when it ends and so turn immediately to Bella rather than give Alice a chance to swamp me.

'How was that? Not so bad?'

'Death would be nicer.' She murmurs, playfully and squeezing the towel to her face, she sighs a little.

'Think of the pants. Em says there's nothing more attractive than a girl in yoga pants.' Rose proudly brags.

Part of me wants to say that's because Emmett's a pervert but I silence myself and smile at Bella.

'Don't do it for a guy, do it for yourself.'

'Obviously.' Blondie interjects. 'I was just listing the positives.'

'Yes well-'

'Jazz says he can always tell if I've worked out. Says he can feel it…'

I've tuned myself out. Bella has too but she's polite enough to at least pretend she's listening. It winds me up that the girls could be like this. I love Alice. Jasper's cool, too. But they're so absorbed in each other, they think the world revolves around them. And sex.

And then mock the fact that some twat like me is constantly on the prowl for the same thing. I need to shut up, I'm becoming bitter. I'm starting to sound like my age.

Instead of explaining myself, because they're stuck in their promotions of their boyfriends, I make my way to the shower room. They follow out of habit and I pull out my wash stuff before hiding out in one of the showers.

I should've just washed at home, this is gruelling and their conversation is killing me.

'Es?'

'Huh?' I call over the stream of the water.

Here's the other thing about these crappy locker-room showers, the water doesn't run warm. It runs from hypothermic to scolding. I settle for the scolding and try not to complain out loud when it comes to incinerating my hair.

'Go on, Carlisle and you!'

I'm not an idiot, I can hear the other two walking around giggling and it's making me even more paranoid.

'There's nothing to tell, Alice!'

'Aww, come on. We're all friends here?'

The phrase makes me shudder and I deliberately let the water run over my face, making it impossible to talk. The smell of my soap is pretty gross, too. It's not the mint or the pine that I wanted yesterday. It's like an overpowering fruit which is making my mouth feel dry.

'There is _nothing_ to tell!' I burble, scrubbing roughly at my skin. My butt looks better today, yellowy purple rather than eggplant colour. Jeeez, I hadn't even thought about that last night? A purple rear would definitely been a turn-off.

'Dude, don't even try it. I saw you guys this morning.'

The squeak of me silencing the tap is the same noise as Rosalie's giggly gasp.

'We weren't even awake this morning?'

I wrap the towel tightly around my bust and squeeze the water from my hair. When I pull back the shower curtain, first to rearrange my hair into a nicer standard, I spot them all gawking at me.

Alice looks overcome with pride.

'What?' I ask panicked.

'Fucking hell, your legs!'

'My legs?!' I look down at my legs and crumble even more. They're dumpy and awkward and look even worse from up here. Especially with this bandage on. I touch it gently, make a face and then rip it from my thigh in silence. Yet another thing I didn't notice last night. No wonder he found it so easy to change the sitution once more.

The burn is on its way to getting better. It's drying up, it just doesn't look friendly.

'I spilt coffee.' I explain quickly, putting the bandage in the bin and inspecting my wrist, too. That's fine. It feels fine. It's just my ass that stings. The towel is covering that.

'I've told her.' Alice sings with a smile but Rosalie looks like she wants to kill me.

'What?' I repeat impatiently

'Shitting hell. Are you kidding me? Why _her_?'

This is why Rose can be a bitch.

'Hey! What is _wrong_ with my legs?!'

Sure, I hate them on most days but they seemed to be doing okay last night- or maybe they weren't? Maybe _that's_ why he was staring! _Disgust_...

'What's _wrong_ with them? They're hot as hell! Where the heck did you get them!' Rose cheers.

It's such an aggressive compliment that I don't even slightly trust it, I just grab my stuff and grumpily shut myself in one of the little cupboards to change.

'I've been telling her for months to wear a skirt. She won't listen.'

This remark is ridiculously patronising but worse than that is the idea of wearing a skirt. Skirts had a way of blowing up my weight so that I looked like a hippo. Not flattering.

'Don't be embarrassed, Esme? We're just being jealous.' Rose taunts with a wicked laugh. This is the needed motivation for me to impatiently hurry my ass up and get changed into a long cardigan (that doesn't belong to me) and leggings.

'You think her legs are good, you should see her ass!'

'Alice!' I complain, whining a little. Jesus, it's like someone selling meat at a cattle market.

'What? Your ass is phenomenal. Your waist is, too. And your ti-'

I throw open the door and roll my eyes, making my way to the mirrors by the sink to try and sort out my hair but it just can't handle it.

'Can we just stop with the sucking up, please? I told you nothing happened and _nothing_ happened. End of story, close the credits. Goodbye. Mic drop.'

'Esme.' She says knowingly, flicking her dark eyebrows up.

The only thing I can appreciate is Bella's genuine blush. She looks interested. Who wouldn't, right? But at least she's kind enough to be struggling with how it's playing out.

'Can I give you a report or are you going to shoot me down?'

'There's nothing to-'

'Firstly!' She interrupts, jumping to the bench so that her skirt flies up a little. I roll my eyes and rub my face. Jeeeez, when did I start to hate girl time? Girl time at the moment was making me the only mature one present. Chilling out with Alice is like being a giggly pre-schooler.

'He invited a date-' She begins.

'Which ended badly, meaning-'

' _Meaning_ , he's clearly trying to get your attention. He was the only one who brought a date and invited her into _your_ home.'

Fucking hell, this girl is deluded.

'The reason he's the _only_ one who brought a date is because _all of you_ are _dating each other_. Anyway, I practically set them up-.'

'Exactly! He followed _your_ advice.'

'Alice!' Stop correcting my arguments!

'He wouldn't stop staring at you all night, either.' Rose adds, smirking. She might as well be biting a lollipop and telling me she killed her parents because that's how bloody creepy she's coming across now.

I edge onto the space by the sink and pull at my face. 'We were mid-conversation-'

'That's another point!' Alice adds cheerily. 'You _only_ talked to each other. That and he fucking forbade me from running after you when you left the room.'

'What?'

'He didn't forbid anyone, Alice. He said to give her time.' Rose corrects.

Bella is looking sheepish.

'Alright _fine_ , he demanded-'

'He _didn't_ demand.'

'Rose, whose side are you on?! So he _asked_ people not to bombard you and then went running after you himself-.'

'On Edward's instruction-' Bella adds weakly.

'GUYS! Fucking hell!' I shout, exhausted by the ping-pong of information. 'Just give me the low down! _What_ happened?!'

Alice makes a face and looks to the girls. Rose rolls her eyes.

'For fuck sake, you've already started it now, haven't you? So. You ran upstairs sobbing, Carlisle politely asked for _what's-her-face_ to leave. She shoved him and called him a few things to which he ignored. He was pretty chill to be honest until Emmett put his foot in it.'

'Go on.' I demand, eagerly.

She fights her smile and continues.

'He asked us to give you your space and suggested sending us home but Alice somehow managed to persuade him otherwise-'

'I said he couldn't kick us out without firstly giving us an explanation and secondly letting us _see_ you were okay.'

'Yeah. So that was fine. Then Em being drunk said he couldn't understand why you'd take it so badly and that-' Rose stops and grimaces slightly. I nod ahead, already anticipating the blow. 'He questioned why it was such a bad thing to hear when you prided yourself on being a slag.'

Ouch.

'And?' I force myself to ask through gritted teeth.

'And Carlisle lunged for him…' Bella says quietly.

FOR FUCK SAKE WHY AM I BEING TOLD THIS NOW?! Apparently my face reveals my horror because Bella continues to explain herself hurriedly.

'Well no, he didn't lunge _then_. Emmett was drunk and made a few more dumb comments-'

'Like?!'

'… In this case you _don't_ want to know.' Alice mumbles. 'It just managed to rival Carlisle up and he lost it but Edward grabbed him before he could do anything stupid.'

'Then why did he get _slapped_?' I ask irritably. Rose huffs and stands up in my way, blocking view of anything else as she tells off the other two.

'Whose telling this story? Edward held him back, there was yelling-'

'DEFINE THE YELLING?!' I yell.

'Edward told him to calm down. He wasn't thinking clearly and then he went kinda nuts.' Bella murmurs.

That is not a definition.

They're all looking a little embarrassed at this moment and I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe because they're realising that it's out of order for them to go expelling Carlisle's least proud moments.

'It involved a lot of threats and dark promises and Edward kept trying to get him to chill and he just wouldn't. He was driving himself into a panic.'

'But _why_?'

The girls shrug.

'Your honour?' Rose guesses. 'He probably didn't appreciate the fact that you'd been humiliated. He came across a little-'

'Rose, he was _fine_.' Bella intervenes quickly, eyes to the floor. Rose bites her lip.

'What?! What were you going to say?!'

'All I was going to mention is that he seemed-'

'Not appropriate, Rose. He was clearly just emotional.' Bella weakly begs. For all I care at this moment, I could drop kick her into the opposite wall.

'Rosalie! _Answer_ me!'

She rolls her light eyes again and looks to Bella who is shaking her head.

'He seemed a little _jealous_ , that was all?'

'He seemed worried!' Bella corrects.

I stare at them blankly. My head is hurting so bad all because I have no idea whose perspective to trust. The idea of Cullen being _jealous_? It should appeal to me considering I spent all last night begging for his attention. At this moment it just seemed sick. The idea of him being jealous when he knew-. He couldn't be jealous, surely? But worried? Worried about what? He didn't seem worried when he came ranting into me.

He said himself he was hurt. He said it was because I was hurt. What if it _was_ jealousy?

'He pretty much reached his peak at full speed. Grabbed his car keys and everything. He was halfway out the door when Edward slapped him.' Alice speaking now and she's a lot softer than she started off being.

'He was _really_ concerned for you, Esme. I've never seen him so frantic.' Even Blondie is less of an arse.

If my heart beats any faster, I think I might faint. I'm feeling light headed.

'So Edward slapped him?'

'Apologised straight after.' Bella promises. 'And Carlisle thanked him. He was pretty weak on his feet. I think if Edward hadn't been hugging him, he would've collapsed to the floor. He was exhausted.'

He was struggling.

'And you guys saw all this?'

I could suddenly realise why Carlisle didn't want me to know. The embarrassment was probably eating him up from the inside out.

Alice nods. 'They stayed outside for a few minutes. Talked and stuff. Not sure what about. He just came back in, apologised, especially to Emmett and went straight upstairs.'

'Even when he dropped Em and me off, he wouldn't stop apologising about how out of line he'd been. Said that work's been tough at the moment. He's worried he's becoming a little over-sensitive.'

A brief image of little JD springs to mind and for a moment, I have to stop myself from letting the emotion make itself known on my cheeks.

'I didn't realise it was so bad…' I mutter, guilty, eyeing my shaky hands.

'It was _explosive_. And we promised not to tell you so we really are arseholes at the moment.' Rose confirms. 'But he was fine after talking to you. Like a different person when he came back downstairs. Which brings us to the big question. What _did_ you talk about?'

'We didn't talk for long! Just… talked about… urm…stuff.'

And then I tried to snog him. And then we argued. And then he danced with me. Now, here with are.

'Stuff?' Alice prompts, eagerly.

The mountain in my chest crumbles to nothing and I look at her stone-faced and breathe.

'I think I want to quit my job-.'

'Not surprised.' Rose mutters and gets elbowed by Bella. Who immediately regrets daring to even touch the goddess beside her.

'Is that _it_?'

'It was a long conversation. Took a lot of -…' I stop. I was trying to say _persuasion_ but I don't think that's a good idea at the moment. 'Encouragement.'

'Right.' Alice agrees. The girls nod and I'm calm enough again to attempt a smile.

'But that still doesn't explain why you were naked in bed with him.'

'Alice!'

FUCK. MY. LIFE.

'How did you even know about that?!' I hiss, embarrassed. I can feel the burn on my face, it's firing up as I breathe. Oh God. How the fuck am I meant to come back from that?

'So it's true?!' Rosalie squeals.

'NOTHING HAPPENED!' I reiterate, covering my eyes. They laugh and despite how embarrassed I am, my mouth curves into a smile.

'Besides, I didn't even see anything. I was asleep by the time he got naked.' This isn't coming out much better.

'Why _were_ you naked?'

'It's hot in his room. He's got the boiler in it?'

'He's also got a window.' Alice replies cleverly.

'I wasn't even naked, I was wearing a shirt!'

'His shirt.' Alice murmurs. 'Doesn't explain the random shower in the middle of the night, does it?'

Oh God, is it hot in here? It feels hot in here? Oh God. Oh God. They need to stop staring at me.

'I don't know Alice-'

'If there's anyone more likely to shower after exercise- I would suggest it's your flatmate.'

'HE'S STILL A VIRGIN!' I emphasise, crumbling a little. Rose looks wide eyed at me and I crumble even more.

'He's a-!'

' _Sure_ he is, Esme. You were laying on him this morning. You're wearing _his_ clothes now! Classic sign of sex!'

' _You_ wear my clothes all the time!' I squeak desperately.

'Esme. Just admit it. He's got the hots for you and you're enjoying it.' Rose murmurs, laughing a little.

'Nothing happened!' I repeat for the thousandth time.

'All I'm saying Es, is that you need to be careful. He's your flatmate. This is only going to end badly.'

'There wasn't even a beginning, Alice. We simply went to sleep in a hot room. That was all. For fuck sake, it was the same as seeing me naked now!'

'But we _didn't_ see you naked. You got changed behind there.' Rose mutters, nodding her head to the cubicle. I feel myself start to lose grip on the ability to talk.

'Only because you were gawking at me.'

'And we're telling you that's exactly what he was doing to you all evening!'

This is the bit where I fuck up. I've gone nuts, I'm in a corner, there's no way out and then I open my fat mouth for the last squawk.

'Well he _wasn't_ staring at me last night, that's for sure!'

Alice reels back a little. Eyeing me, carefully turning her head as if I'm a foreign creature.

'…why does that sound like a complaint?'

Fuck.

'It's not! There is nothing. We are nothing. It's just him being all virginal over there and me being all non-virginal over here!' I separate my hands to explain myself but not even Bella looks like she believes me.

'For fuck sake, if I have to prove it, I _will_!'

Alice's eyes double in size and she goes to stop me exiting rather rashly but it's too late. I bound out the area, not bothered if the girls are behind and spot Cullen's car. He's got the radio and he's looking incredibly jittery but pleased when he sees me come over.

He drives out a little and pushes open the door, smiling cheerily.

'You wouldn't _believe_ the hour I've just had. Jasper's been-'

'We're giving the girls a lift.' I announce quickly, tying myself in the front seat and trying not to burst with sudden fear or panic. I look wearily to him. He simply smiles, a frown playing in his expression but he's eager to keep it at bay.

Looking at him make me immediately regret my spontaneous idiocy.

The girls quickly clamber into the back, Rose just behind me and Alice in the middle. They're awfully polite and greet him like you'd greet a teacher or maybe your friend's dad. He's distantly polite too.

'How was Yoga?' He turns his face briefly to me but when I shrink inside myself, looks in the rear-view mirror at the girls.

'Horrible.' Bella mutters.

'It wasn't _that_ bad, Isabella. You were totally enjoying the second half, don't even lie.'

'Just because you've met my dad, Alice, does not give you right to call me that!'

They giggle and Carlisle continues to keep up conversation about whatever comes to mind. I'm in the corner, dissolving with my heart beating out my chest.

Just do it. I tell myself. Just do it the once, get them off your back and you can apologise later. He won't be hella mad. Maybe embarrassed. Maybe he'll be really _really_ angry. Maybe he won't want anything to do with me? For fuck sake, why am I freaking out so much?! CALM DOWN YOU NUTTER! Just do it.

'Thanks for offering your bed, Carlisle. Pretty lucky, we took Esme's instead. She was telling us it was _really hot_ last night?'

If he was meant to be suspicious of her comment, he's done well to hide it. He nods politely and goes on to detail the problems with inviting a psycho round for a drink.

'Stifling, Alice. We couldn't even open the window either. The glass was broken.'

We're just coming up to set of traffic lights which would be the perfect time-. Eurgh, why am I panicking! Just fucking do it, Esme! They're already setting their laser eyes into my back!

'Your bed must have been _soaked_ right through, huh Carlisle?'

For a blip, just as he slows down to abide road laws, he frowns just slightly, turning his face towards them in confusion.

I've got to do it now, those lights are going to change any fucking second. Eurgh, why is Peer Pressure so dumb?!

'Couldn't be sure.' I start nervously, hearing the rush of blood in my ears. 'We slept soundlessly, huh Carlisle?'

The moment I speak his name, those dark blue eyes melt into mine almost persuading me against myself. Here goes. Moving across to lean over to him, I put my hand to the inside of his thigh, close, so close to where his junk is and then- I squeeze.

'Shit, Es.' He gasps nosily, grasping my hand and throwing it back to myside. 'I'm _driving_!'

I quickly pull my hand back, breathe calmly and take a weak look at his face. His cheeks are stained pink, his eyes wide and his chest rising. I can't bear to imagine what he's thinking. At the very least he's not amused. But while he's distracted enough, I turn behind to see Rose stifling a giggle between her hands. Alice is rolling her eyes, grinning widely.

'But yeah. Out like a light.' He adds in a mutter.

For the rest of the crowded car journey I don't say another word. He offers to drop them all off at their respected houses but Alice informs him that they're all chilling at hers. And we're welcome for a coffee.

I'm seconds away from pushing the saint out of the driving seat and running her over myself. She sees me glare at her. Rightly so. I've made myself look like a first class twat for NO FUCKING REASON.

'Esme?' He asks.

'Groceries.' I murmur, shyly.

He shrugs and says his goodbyes to the girls before driving us to the nearest supermarket, cutting the engine and tapping the wheel with his keys. Uh-oh. I was hoping this whole scene could be avoided.

'For the life of me, if you're still drunk-'

'Perfectly sober.' I mutter guiltily, staring at my hands.

'Greeeat! For some dumb reason I was panicking there? Thank _God_ you're sober!'

'I'm sorry?' I try.

He goes to glare at me but he can't hold it for very long before hitting his forehead to the steering wheel, laughing hysterical. It reminds me of a week ago when he was begging to have nothing to do with my vagina. Nothing's changed.

'Go on then, surprise me.' He begins, trying hard to seem displeased. 'Why did you do it?'

'Urm, I just felt-'

'Don't bother covering it up. You've been silent since you got in the car.' He might be trying to sound harsh but his tone is coming off amused. He's also smiling.

Here goes.

'They thought that we'd…They were just-. I don't know. I'm sorry?'

'Esme, come on?'

'Fine! They accused me of sleeping with you and I panicked and promised to prove them wrong.'

He sighs and rubs his forehead, trying to hide his laugh.

'Right. How does that explain anything?'

I shrug, trying to worm my way out of it but he's not giving me the slightest chance. Dammit.

'You reaction explains it. You'd be different after sex. Less jumpy. And you wouldn't have told me off…'

'This is your theory?' He questions, doubtedly.

I nod dumbly.

'Right okay. I shouldn't have been so dismissive, I'm sorry. But you're basing this on a _theory_. Surely a good eight hours after sex, I'd be back to normal?'

I shake my head slightly. 'You would've been comfortable with me touching you.'

'You're guessing?'

'Well yes. But-.'

'Esme?'

'I'm really sorry, I knew I shouldn't done it. I feel really stupid.'

'What would you have done if I didn't jump?'

'Felt _more_ stupid.' I mutter under my breath.

He sighs and leans back in his chair before turning to look at me. I'm hiding behind my wet hair, finding one loose curl incredibly fascinating and avoiding his entertained smile.

'That's not what I meant- I err.' He sighs again and looks down at his hands. 'I mean, what would you have said if…we _had_ slept together?'

I'm slowly starting to work out that he refuses all intimate phrases to describe our potential next step and instead calls it stuff like 'slept'. I can't imagine what he'd look like describing sex with me. I don't think he'd ever describe it.

'Oh?' I realise. 'I don't know. Probably would've stormed out.'

'May I make a request?'

'Maybe?'

'If you don't feel comfortable saying anything- then _don't_. You don't have to explain yourself. They're your friends.'

'Carlisle?'

'I know, I'm sorry too. Just be glad I wasn't actually driving, I might have been pissed of then.'

Exhaling through my nose, I rub my eyes, and groan at myself. Could I be more of a twat?

'So.' He starts cheerily. 'Would you like to hear about my eventful hour?'

'Shoot.' I mutter, still feeling sorry for myself.

He laughs, adjusts his seat and stares at the roof of his car. These seats are ridiculously nice. So nice that I should be grateful just for sitting in them.

'So after buying a new lot of underwear -.'

'Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I didn't even think about-'

OH MY FUCKING GOD, I COULD'VE ACCIDENTALLY GROPED MY FLATMATE! That would've been so bad! Oh Jesus, what the fuck was I thinking?!

To answer, he shows me the waistband of his Calvin's and smiles a little. It's such a small act. So minor and yet I want to cry. Jesus, he's so calm and collected and flirty and I nearly fucking fucked myself over. I hate myself so much. He winks at me so that I turn away, blushing.

'Anyway,' he continues, grinning. 'After my lucky decision, I went to the hardware store where I was bombarded by the opposing trio of your group who _followed_ me on GPS and wouldn't give me any peace of mind.'

'Trio?' I repeat, worriedly. 'Even Edward?'

'Oh ho! _Even_ Edward!'

After a few minutes of his testing laugh I realise he's in utter disbelief. I'm suddenly interested. This shouldn't make me smile but it does. Thank fuck it wasn't just me.

'Right? What did they want to know?'

'What did they want to know? Let me explain!' He informs me with a performative smile to burst his cheeks.

He's now so enthused by his own dramatic voice that I'm facing him properly and grinning widely.

'So from the hardware store they _kidnapped_ \- I repeat, _kidnapped_ me, and promptly drove me to Emmett's. Thus leaving behind my car and the new window I'd intended to buy!'

Now I'm laughing but only because of how much outrageous energy he's pumping into his tale. He's so excited to tell me and I'm so captivated by his delivery.

'Kidnapped?!'

'Bound and gagged! It was the most _embarrassing_ experience! Do you know how many people were in that store?! All those potential patients, staff from the hospital! Eurgh!'

'Wasn't the police called?' I ask, confused.

'Jasper told them it was a bachelor party and they laughed it off!'

'Oh, no.'

'Oh yes!' He replies laughing, his face still pink but for a much friendlier reason. I gesture with my hands.

'Well go on then!'

'So we're at Emmett's- still gagged with God knows what- where they tied me to a chair and forced me to wach some educational video.'

'Uh-oh.'

I can so see where this is going.

'Correct! Bound and gagged and blindfolded- Did I mention that?'

I shake my head, beaming at him with my biggest smile. It's weird to think I was so nervous a moment ago, I couldn't be more relaxed now. I'm laughing so much my cheeks are hurting and Carlisle's frustration is so sweet and so familiar that to be living through his excitement is like being awarded the most prestigious award.

He's so beautiful when he laughs.

'For forty minutes, they tried to give me a lesson on sex education! They tried to tell the _Doctor_ where I would find ' _the fascinating organ most male species would refer to as; 'Jurrassic Pork''_

I throw my head back, laughing, my chest squeezing as I pour more breath into my giggles.

'They demonstrated with stuffed toys! It was humiliating!'

'Oh Carlisle,' I murmur, sympathetically.

'I was given a quiz!'

'Did you get one hundred percent?'

He winks at me again, confident and still deeply amused. 'You bet I did.'

'What were the questions?'

He reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a square sheet of paper which he unfolds and passes to me. His handwriting is ridiculously neat but I scan over some of the questions and read others aloud.

''Circle three noises that girls make when their come?': 'Yes', 'Fuck' and 'intangible sounds'.'

He shakes his head in disbelief, scratching his chin.

'"Owie"? That's an option?'

'According to Emmett I would've got extra points if I circled that.'

'Why?' I ask cautiously.

'Anal.' He replies simply and I burst out laughing again before settling down and reading out another question.

''List three places according to the diagram that it's acceptable to _spunk_ on. Vagina, breasts and face?''

The diagram is a crude drawing of a stick figure with a skirt and big round circles for tits.

He nods, slightly embarrassed but still pleased by my amusement. I'm tempted to warn him against the dangers if he dare come on my face but this might take away from our light hearted cheeriness.

'I'm genuinely amazed you actually took part.' I tell him, looking at his face. He's peering over my shoulder, reading his own answers despite the fact he should remember every question.

'They had a camera.'

'So?' I ask, confused

'I was bound and gagged and naked from the waist down- I _wasn't_ going to argue with them.'

'You left out that part!' I complain, suddenly gasping for air as the images of his panic spread out peacefully in my mind.

'Sorry. There was just so much that went on-. I thought I was never going to make it to pick you up in time.'

'It's fine, Carlisle. If you'd phoned we would've made our own way home.'

'Oh! That reminds me, too!' He grabs his phone from his dashboard and passes it to me. ' _Filth_.'

'Oh Hon.' The background has been changed to a vivid photograph of a large group of girls dressed as nurses- having some kind of weird orgy. Bless him. 'You do know you can change the wallpaper, right?'

'Sure.' He mutters with a grin, nodding for me to go ahead. I type in his password but the phone buzzes. So I try it again. And again.

'Do you know what it is?'

'The password? Sure it's _Virginslovepussy_.orgy .Both pussy and orgy spelt wrong.'

I laugh even harder and genuinely have to stop in case I die. After six minutes, which has taken me to the point of pathetic giggling, I go to change his wallpaper. It's asking for a second code.

'What's the second one?'

'No idea but I've locked myself out nine times trying to guess.'

I look at him again. His face is so relaxed, his eyes sparkling playfully and his smile burning into me.

'You know you're beautiful when you laugh?' He says softly, biting at his lip with sharp teeth.

'Me?!' I repeat.

He raises an eyebrow and gestures to the empty car.

'I was going to say the same to you a moment ago. I wish I had now.' But all of a sudden the giggles have caught me again and I'm voicing the sound so proudly that I'm struggling to look normal.

'Esme?' He says softly and I jump because I didn't actually realise how close he was. So close. I can taste his words, smell our washing powder and that cologne. I wait patiently with my mouth open, breathing in to the rhythm that he breathes-

He bottles it.

'Er? Let's go get the shopping?'

I shouldn't have expected it. That was my fault.

'Okay.' My mouth replies.

For once, I'm in no bitter mood about shopping with him. Like I said earlier. I'm going to take all the time I can get.

'So, what was your reward for all this stress? Did they draw you out a certificate?'

Carlisle smiles so that the laughter reaches his gorgeous eyes.

'Oh no,' and reaching back into his pocket he pulls out a square little foil between two fingers.

We laugh so hard and so fully that we don't leave the car for another twenty minutes. But it's only on leaving the car, it's at that awful moment when I'm incoherently babbling about useless information into his patient ears that he grabs me by the arm, pulls me gently to him and captures my lips between his.


	30. Reasons why responsibility is a bore

_**I apologise for any long wait and issue I may have caused but I hope this chapter is as thoroughly enjoyable as the rest. I know things my seem a bit out of sync for now but trust me when I say everything will come full circle. Please R &R!** _

* * *

He is kissing me.

Carlisle Cullen is kissing _me_.

There is a mouth, on my mouth, _purposefully_.

For sure, it's not the best snog ever and bloody hell, have I had _much_ better pecks in my life but that doesn't matter. How could it possibly matter how frugal he is with those perfectly soft lips, or how shyly he is holding onto my arms.

None of that matters because he did it. He kissed ll too soon it's over and so is my euphoric rush of hormones.

He _kissed_ me?

Parting from the obstruction that is my body, he smiles slightly, those blue eyes locked into my forest ones. I'm not sure how I must look, bemused I'm guessing because the longer he waits for me to say something, the more anxious his expression grows.

He _kissed_ me... like _that_?! Are we pre-school children?! What's with the innocence?!

'So.' I'm still amazed that he actually did it, what else can I do.

'So?' He asks tentatively, clearly in panic for my approval.

'That was-' unexpected?

'I'm sorry.' He rushes in nervously, coughing to hide his nerves 'It's just- well you were- I was-'

'Thank you.' I literally have no idea what else to say. I know I should be saying something better, something kinder when he's so gorgeous and looking at me in such a way that's making me feel like a teenager but- I'm coming up blank. I should start with the obvious. Bizarrely, he's sweeter than I'd imagined. More sensual and cute rather than the passion I had _planned._ I guess that just comes down to experience. Why else would he equate kissing to pouting?

Okay, now I'm being too-critical.

'You don't look impressed.' He surmises after a while. I don't know if he's frowning because his hair is falling in his eyes or whether the sunlight is irritating him. Obvously, I'm avoiding that third option: That my expression is killing his ego. Before he gets chance to flick it away, I gently push his fringe back for him. Here goes-

'I'm very impressed.' I say neutrally. It hits him like a head wound. 'I didn't think you'd want to go near me after last night?' I say this carelessly though his smile is becoming weaker.

' _But_?'

Oh man, why can't I jut be grateful for the fact he kissed me? Even if it was shit? I sigh heavily and lower my eyes.

'But you copped out a bit.' A LOT.

'Really?' He asks dismally, those eyebrows pulling down to highlight his disappointment. At himself. My first instinct is to go over there and properly prove what a real kiss is- but that might just be rubbing salt into the wound.

'You kiss me like you're kissing your grandmother.' This isnt helping.

'I don't have a grandmother.' He murmurs sourly.

I take a moment to stare at the car-park around me, it's getting warmer, sunnier and it's catching the side of his face and making him squint. I think I need to work on sounding sweeter. Maybe he might find me more appealing that way and he'd actually _want_ to kiss me.

'It just takes a little practice- Which I'd be _happy_ to help with?'

He smiles a little, leaning on a leg in particular and rolling the sole of his trainers over the gravel.

'Don't be upset, Hon. It's a good thing.' Great! Now he's never going to kiss me again! Really did good this time didn't you, Platt? EURGH. But he shrugs slightly, his soft shy smile turning into a grin.

'It's not normal for me to not get it perfect first time.'

Okay, so that has made me smile a little.

'You put too much pressure on yourself- you're meant to relax.'

'I was hyped.' He says casually, lifting a shoulder and turning away to hide his smirk.

'Well, you can focus all that energy into kissing me properly later.' I really hope he doesn't take this as a flirt- I'm not flirting anymore- this is a demand. I refuse to accept that first one as anything slightly promising.

' _Properly_?' He challenges, his voice cheery and playful.

'For starters _Choir-boy_ , no one kisses with their mouth closed. That died out years ago.'

With a light step, I go to push him, just for an excuse to be that little bit nearer but rather than shy from my grip he pauses and leans into it so that I falter a little. Fuck it, fuck this car park, fuck it all, just take me right now in the middle of this road.

'I'll bear that in mind for our next appointment, Miss Platt.'

'I have _high_ expectations for you, Doctor Cullen.'

* * *

Shopping for us doesn't take long because we're pretty much always on the same brain wave when it comes to food for the week. Not that we've addressed the fact he has to leave, yet. The thought makes me inadvertently sigh. I'm going to regret it. I know I'm going to regret it. But it's selfish of me to expect him to stay and worse for me to encourage it. Besides. This whole Alaska thing is going to do wonders for his career-.

'What you thinking about?' He questions, pushing the cart with two hands.

'Er, nothing. I'm just thinking…?'

Nice.

'About?' He prompts sweetly, avoiding the plain temptation to ridicule my stupidity. I already know what's got his brain in a tizz. He's panicking that I haven't demanded a proper snog yet. He's panicking that I'm _not_ panicking. I'm sticking to my guns, if he wants to be the one to kiss me then by God, he _will_. But once that's out the way- phew. The plans I have for that mouth on this one- _are_ -! Not appropriate for a shopping trip.

'Fruit?'

He's not really listening, he's got his eyes on a pineapple on one of the higher shelves and debates about putting it in the cart. I roll my eyes.

'Just grab one.'

'Isn't it easier to buy it from a tin? Or buy it all cut up?'

'You might want to make cocktails, though?' I remind him. 'Besides, fresh pineapple is so much better than- What, why are you staring?'

He's not just staring, he's stopped in the middle of this really busy supermarket to look wonderously as if I hold the key to all the world's secrets. It's a very flattering look and it's making my heart beat a little heavier.

'I just never realised how fascinating I could find a conversation on pineapple. Is that bizarre?'

Great, now my face is going to be all blotchy, too. I nod, shyly letting my hair tangle up over the collar of his grey cardigan.

'Pineapple is meant to be a great aphrodisiac?' I mutter softly, and even though I know ths is something he's bound to know, I feel like testing the waters of our flirting. The waters seems to be experiencing at heat-wave.

' _Sold_.' This might have been meant as a joke but he puts it in the trolley and I find myself obnoxiously laughing out loud.

'You've been hanging with Em, too much. You're getting brave.' I tease, locking my fingers in the metal grating and pulling him along with me. He snorts.

'I was always brave. It's just not appropriate to take advantage when you were -. Never mind.'

'No, go on. Say it for the _100th_ time.' Jeeez, I get it I had a drink blah, blah, blah.

'I'm sorry, I don't mean to be an arse.'

My grin does enough to say he's forgiven and he prattles on about the _really_ interesting qualities of too much salt in your diet until we finish our task but I don't mind. Even if I don't quite understand all that he's telling me, I love how enthusiastically he talks to me.

* * *

Like I said, shopping doesn't take long. We work well together, even on the domestic stuff like groceries and despite an absolute argument breaking out about paying, he manages to beat me to it and hands the cashier his debit card. All is lost however when he grins at me and in moments we're walking through the doors of the hardware store.

'Dr Cullen? Back so soon?'

Carlisle blushes slightly when the store-owner from earlier openly greets us with a _huge_ smile. He's friendly, older but probably has tonnes of sons close to our age judging the way he's shaking my flatmates hand. It's so easy to forget how much of an impact thie flatmate has on the values of one town. To be fair- it's also super weird.

'I'm so sorry for the inconvenience caused earlier today. It was simply a-'

'Well you've always been a loyal customer at McClark's, _Sir_ and a tremendously generous man to our community. We couldn't be more thrilled on your engagement-'

Carlisle rubs his pink neck, grimacing, mouth moving without omitting any sound. But to be fair to the Clerk, this is Carlisle's store of choice. The house and everything in it is pretty much an advertisement for this store. Their quality is good and we trust in them with everything. From tools to shelves to bath units all the way back to door knobs.

'I really _must_ tell you-.' Cullen tries to say, but his words are getting swallowed by his embarrassment and I am loving every second of it. 'I mean thank you- _but-'_

'A gift from us to you. We couldn't be more pleased for you, sir!'

Before my gloriously pink flatmate further attempts to try and correct the store manager, he offers a tanned hand out to us, a card in his grasp. I smile politely and keep my eyes on the reaction of this matter, ignoring the cheery smile of one man to push mine onto the other.

'Mr McClark,' Carlisle continues, a lump clamped in his throat. 'I couldn't possibly accept-'

'Nonsense! This is just a small gesture. Especially after my Jane's operation. Really looked after her, you did, Sir.' Mr McClark is now looking fondly at me, his grin wide and showing a set of yellowed teeth.

'Just procedure-.' Carlisle tries to say.

But the clerk shoves the yellow card in his hand and immediately starts to retreat. 'Such a friendly face, too. Couldn't be happier for you both. Many congratulations!'

With horror I realise that he's been staring my way for a good minute.

'Me?!' I repeat.

'Congratulations again!'

Backing away and ignoring both of our stumbling and calls, the clerk is gone and we're left staring at each other. Marriage? HA! He'd actually have to snog me for that- Aw, now I'm sad.

'Jasper is repaying this money even if I have to- _Oh my God._ '

'What?' I ask, trying to suss out his confusion. With a frown he pushes the little card into my hand and makes a face of frustration.

'A $100 gift card?! Are you joking?! That's so nice!' Jeez, this was just a little local store? How could they afford such a thing?!

'We can't take it, Esme.'

'I know _that_ but it doesn't exactly look like they're willing to return it?'

He makes a face, eyebrows knitting together and mouth crumbling into a troubled smile. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he finds it flattering as I do to be thought of as an engaged. Honestly, I couldn't tell why I was so flattered by it. I hate marriage and only really agree with it in films. Though, it still's a surprise someone, even for a second, considers me mature and lovable enough to be made a fiancée out of.

'So what are you saying? I've just got to refer to you as _Mrs Cullen_ every time we enter the store?'

Is it wrong that this is the kind of sentence which inadvertently makes my stomach flip?

Impossible. He comes in here like twice a week. He'd never keep that up.

'Of course not!' I reprimand, tapping him lightly on the arm. He gives me his best smirk and leads me towards the correct aisle, pleased by my useless excitement. 'You'd never refer to your own wife as _Mrs Cullen_. Far too formal. Besides, this isn't a slap-dash arrangement. What do you take me for?'

His eyes sparkle and he sighs excessively. 'Alright so Lilies and Dahlia's? Catered food with a band at the end? Blue and white for the colour scheme?'

'Urgh, could you be plainer?' Does this guy even know who he's joking with? I might hate mrriage but I love a good wedding! 'I'm thinking a nice champagne with rose pink and an apple green for the colour scheme. Lilies maybe, _no_ Dahlia's. But yes to a band.'

There's just something about vocal chords into a microphone that has my heart melting a little.

He grins even wider, his hair curving over his forehead in a perfect arch. Urgh, why is he looking at me like that?

'I like green.' The flicker of his eyebrows almost suggests he's surprised. He shouldn't be. He pretty much likes most colours. Apple green is just one that fits my taste, too.

'I know.'

'And we already have a house so we wouldn't have to move anywhere?' He figures, softly.

Why the fuck am I actually getting excited about this?! It's a JOKE! Jesus, Christ what the heck am I grinning like a madman for?!

'So if we're married, I don't have to pay rent?'

'I suppose not.' He replies with a smart pout.

'This is sounding better already. Hit me up with some dates and I'm yours.'

We've stopped by the window frames now and he drops the smile on his face to stay focused on the right measurements. I give him the space he needs. I know how frustrating it can be to have someone going off at you when you're busy and he seems pretty busy at the moment, looking at the different glass and frames and squinting at the information.

'16th of November.'

'What?' Why does he do this? Make conversation with no context.

'You asked for a date? The 16th of November. It's dark in the evening which would look great against something like candles or string lights. It's also cold enough that you could enjoy an evening indoors while having a nice breeze but it's not cold enough that you'll freeze to death.'

My speech is gone so for the moment, I just stare at how he is crouched away from me, speaking so expertly and convincingly that I genuinely have to question everything. Why am I even romanticising this idea? I don't agree with marriage?!

'Do you think it'll contradict against our spring colours?' As an artist o course this is my main concern.

'No.' From the side, I see the little shape of his smile in his smooth cheek. 'Now you're the expert, what am I looking at here?'

* * *

The hardware store takes longer than the groceries but that's only because Carlisle spends half of the time struggling to work out what he needs before realising that my suggestions might actually help. To make things worse we have to order everything for a delivery date and he looks suspicious when I demand for the delivery date to be two weeks instead of the one. I am more than capable of doing everything on my own but two hands are better than one and in this case, Carlisle's hands are the ones to trust. No offence to Edward but any kind of DIY he took to meaning, get it done as quickly as possible and don't doubt your ability. Which in many cases needs doubting.

It shouldn't be much of a surprise that very nearly another argument breaks out with paying for the window. He had every reason to pay for it, including inviting the bitch over who caused the issue but I couldn't do it. I couldn't let him. But Carlisle is old fashioned.

'Esme!' He guffaws, playfully annoyed in all the best way. 'It's not even your window, it's not fair!'

'So not my window but _our_ bed, right? You don't get to play that game!' I nudge him out the way again and grin widely, bearing my teeth a little. He rolls his eyes and because he's had enough humiliation in this shop, gives over to let me pay.

'I'm paying you back.' He murmurs, lugging a bag of various bits with him. 'Even a reduction on the rent, whatever. I'm paying you back.'

The staff offer us a friendly goodbye as we leave, smiling cheerily at us so that Carlisle grows even pinker, scrunching his nose a little until we have everything packed in the car. He seems in a good mood, happy enough to even hum along to the radio without recognising he's doing so. While he's focused enough to drive home, I take in his outfit for the second time. I knew there was something that caught my eye about it. The button down, the light one. I'm sure it's one of the ones I was wearing the other day. Obviously not the one from last night, but definately one that was at the very least in my cupboard. Even from here I can smell my perfume on it. And his clean cologne. Mixing together. Becoming one.

'So I'm starved-'

With the desire to ravish you...

'Have you not eaten?' He asks concerned.

'Have _you_?'

'Well, no but - What would you like? We could make something?'

I grin at him, widely and guiltlessly. He eyes me back for a second before redirecting his attention to the driveway and parking up.

'So, I'm thinking waffles? Or maybe pancakes? I'll cook.' I suggest lovingly.

He cuts the engine off with one hand, closes his eyes and sighs in appreciation. It's such a soft sound, wispy and lulling about my shoulders, a lot less sharp than the reprimands from last night.

'You're spoiling me.' He murmurs suspiciously. I shrug a little, looking through my lashes at him.

Cullen politely tries to take over in unloading the shopping whch is largely offensive but I try my best to be grateful and he follows me up the stairs where he unpacks the food into the various cupboards He's got his thinking face on.

'Well go on then, what is it?' I ask eventually.

He sighs, smiles a little and folds over the bags before passing them my way.

'Wouldn't be too unhappy if I asked to postpone lunch would you?'

'You want to go for a run.' I realise, unable to hide my grin. He shrugs and looks out the window. It's nice and sunny and he is getting fidgety.

'I won't be long. An hour at most?'

'Don't tell me.' I say, holding a finger up to pause him. 'You desperately need to burn off some testosterone before you combust at my feet and demand for me to take you?'

Shit, too far. _Way_ too far.

But his smirk is unmissable and he watches me carefully as he replies.

'I guess, you could call it that?'

When is this game going to end?! It's growing cobwebs down there!

'Fine, go on then. I'll do waffles for when you get back. .'

'Thank-you.' He sings.

I dismiss him to go and get changed before organising the rest of the kitchen. By the time he's finished and changed, I'm in the living room preparing to vacuum the heck out of our carpet. He's just tweaking his ear phones, pulling his hair back to look at me.

'I'll make it up to you.'

He looks behind one last time before closing the door and running off. The living room isn't as bad as I make out but there's just something about having a messy house which gives me the creeps. So I blitz everything. From the kitchen to the living room and then my own bedroom and the sheets which looks oddly dissimilar to what I remembered. It's only been a few days since I left it but it just looks odd, out of shape somehow and smells different. Not like Alice's candy perfume, as I would assume, but something else.

My room doesn't take that long to rearrange since I haven't lived it in for a while and though I go to complain about it, Carlisle's room isn't that bad either. It's just a case of collecting the washing, opening the curtains to let some light in and polishing around the TV and such.

These curious eyes of mine keep going to his bedside drawer. Instead, I pull out a suitcase from one of the wardrobes, and start to pack for him, being cheeky enough to place _those_ DVD's in the middle of a pile of shirts and ties and stuff. The door slams again just as I'm finishing up, followed by the rush of his feet on the landing and eventually the opening of his bedroom door. He's flushed in the face, hair and t-shirt soaked through but otherwise relaxed. He has an empty int glass in his hand.

'Better?' I ask, still not looking up from my task.

'What are you doing?' He asks instead, nearing the bed where I have a few sets of clothes spread out in front of me with a touch of gentle curiosity. I sigh , think about looking up but keep my eyes to my hands, they're fumbling a little but at least the suitcase is pretty neat.

'You'll need to grab your toiletries from the bathroom. Or take a new pack from beneath the sink.'

'Why are you packing?' His tone of confusion persuades me enough to lift my head up. He's weary, focused more in my movement rather than what's in my hands. I attempt a bit of a smile and shrug.

'You're going to Alaska.' I say softly.

For just a second, the grip on his glass tightens and he exhales the last rush of chaotic air from his mouth to really study my words.

'No?' He says quickly. 'No, we agreed, I'm staying here. I'm not going, I'm staying home with you- _both_ of you.' He raises a hand in the direction of Edward's room but neither us are actually aware if he's home or not.

The frown on his face is a worried one. He's not angry or even over-confident, he's concerned. I shake my head so that my hair shimmers a little.

'Not this time.'

'Es?'

I bite my lip, holding the t-shirt loosely in my grip before packing that as well.

'Esme?'

'I'm sorry but you've _got_ to go. It's your job.'

'But it isn't necessary towards my advancement?' This is a weak claim. Even if it isn't necessary, it's bloody helpful and he can't argue that.

'Regardless if it's necessary. It's still an opportunity.' I tell him thickly. He looks relatively blank, his mouth a hard line, resembling those in his forehead. With a new breath of fresh air, I continue. 'I'm sorry but you have to go.'

It's a week, not years. Why are we being like this?! But he's defiant, struggling with it but sticking hard to his guns.

'I've already told you, I don't want to go. I'm staying at home. The hospital needs me-'

'It's still going to need you when you get back. It's just a week, Carlisle. You're used to this. You've been to loads of these before-'

'Exactly, missing one won't hurt.' He's adamant but ultimately incorrect and he knows it. You can see it in his expression. He never frowns like that when he's right. He also never normally compromises either.

'You're being ridiculous.' I say softly. His anger weakens a little until eventually, he's just looking sadly at me.

'I want to stay. Who knows what could happen-.' He cuts himself off with his own silence, watching me carefully as though I'm going to blow up or something. It irks me.

' _Nothing_ is going to happen. I have nine days holiday.'

'But-'

'For nine days, I won't go near the place. I promise.'

He looks down at his trainers and then slides them off his feet, kicking them over to the table near my side of the bed.

'I'm not just worried about that…'

He's too shy for the moment to look up at me but when he does, though dark eyes of his, gorgeous and blue, couldn't look more apologetic. He's clenching his jaw shut, but his expression is speaking volumes. My heart hits my feet at full speed.

'If you still want me once you're back. I'll be here.' I promise gently.

'Of course I'll still want you- why wouldn't I?'

'Things can change, Carlisle. We've spent seven days in each other's pockets. A bit of space might make things clearer.'

Why the fuck am I saying this?! Why am I choosing _now_ to be the one with morals?!

He nods understandably, looking slightly uncomfortable.

'You would like me to go?'

 _Oh_. That makes more sense.

'Well urm. No.' I confess after a moment. 'Really. _No_.' Despite my heavy emphasis, I doubt that he's reading my conviction. 'Not at all but I think it would be good-for _you_.'

He pauses, briefly flattered according to the flash of a smile on his lip but that smile quickly vanishes and he poses a question that neither of us want to hear the answer to.

'Why?'

'Why?' Er? 'Because it's your job? It's an opportunity you might never get again? Because- well. I don't know? Just...' What were we saying yesterday? About having to be honest with eachother and such? Eurgh. 'Look, Cullen, I know myself, okay? I know what I'm like, I know the things I like and the things that I want and- I just want to be clear that you _really_ want it, too?'

To be completely honest, I'm convinced that came out worse than I expected it to. I don't want to make it sound like I'm some virgin Goblin or something, collecting all the inexperienced dick I can. All I'm saying is he's just discovered what hormones are. And he might want to be careful as to who he releases them onto.

For his sake.

I suddenly realise I'm smiling which is making things seem worse because he's not smiling. He's still worried.

'Is this because it's taken me so long to kiss you?'

Fuck.

'Well to be honest... yes? You asked for my patience and I'm offering it on a full platter.'

'You're using it to push me away.' He stutters, still trying hard to be polite. It's a struggle for him. He looks irritated or maybe not even that, maybe conflicted. Regardless of what he looks like, fucking greek marbled statuesque body or not- he's going to Alaska.

'Like I said, I'll still be here if you want me?'

'Why _wouldn't_ I want you?' He repeats again, frowning.

'Because - I don't know?! Because one minute I'm here then I'm there and then I'm crying for no reason or I'm lying to my friends or I'm trying to grope you or trick you into having sex with me or...' I speak way too much for my own good. 'Please stop looking at me like that?'

'I can't help it. This is how I look at you. It's how I've always looked at you.'

It's not even a bad look or an upsetting one. It's just strange and I can't see why.

'You were better at hiding it before.' I mutter.

'You were better at ignoring it.'

... I have no idea what that's suposed to mean?

'Carlisle?'

'Well, why don't you come with me? Like you said you have nine days holiday? It doesn't have to be-'

Did I mention he's too sweet? Because I'm literally nearly sobbing at how sweet he's being right now.

'I still have the nursery and my lessons. And the bar.'

The spark in his eyes dilutes for a second, his mouth faltering as he turns to look through his open window. The sun is shining brightly on his face, making his hair seem even lighter and bringing out a freckle or two on his nose. There are many of them and they're better to see up close but they still manage to make him seem just that little bit more youthful than he acts.

'It was selfish of me to ask- I'm sorry.'

He breathes in through his nose and leans back against the wall opposite to me. I can't tell what he's thinking, I'm not sure I want to know but I immediately regret causing it.

'A week is going to be tough without you.' I sigh softly.

'Then don't send me away?'

EURGH. How is he making me feel like some evil Disney villian at the moment?!

'I've been selfish enough this week, hon. Let me think of _your_ patients for once.' Let me not be so selfish this time. Let me do the honourable and right thing.

'You're not saying this because you want a get-out-clause are you?'

'Carlisle! Of course not!' Sorry Doctor Cullen? Did you not understand that the moaning that part-took conversation yesterday was on account on my untamable need to join forces?

'Sorry I just- urgh. I'm sorry, I'm just overthinking.'

No shit? Jesus, I need to be careful. He's becoming as much of a loose end as me.

'I'm not doing it for _me_ , I'm doing it for _your_ career. You'll thank me later.'

'On the 16th of November?' He murmurs with a smile.

A weight of air leaves me and I nod.

'Exactly then.'

I catch a glimpse of him looking shyly beneath his lashes at me. I can't possibly imagine what he's thinking. He properly wants to murder me, I know I would. Though that's not the expression he's got on his face. Something lost on me, I'm sure but It still looks pretty sweet.

I jab a thumb towards the door and smile.

'Well, I'm going to make food.'

'I'll be down in a sec, I'm just going to shower.'

LET ME JOIN YOU.

* * *

So I head downstairs and get everything sorted for food. I'm starved, really starved and I'm thinking of just eating all the fruit we've just brought to satisfy the growling in my stomach. And then the other growling from my body can be satisfied- I'm going to stop.

How many eggs are in this recipe? Argh fuck it that'll be enough. Probably just need to stir it a little more-

A sharp sort of cold bites into the top of cheek and out of sheer surprise I jump out of my skin, my arm coming out aggressively to slap and make a horrible sound against- oh shit.

'Ow?'

Carlisle steps back, leaning far out of my space and rubbing the corner of his eye. The wood of the spoon has brandished his skin, worse than a hand could do, leaving a tight red mark by his cheek bone.

'I'm so-'

FUCK?!

'Shouldn't have crept up on you- I'm sorry…'

Oh God, oh God, oh God. It's so bad. It's _so_ bad. I've never hit anyone before? Not even by accident! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He blinks widely, tentively touching the mark and wincing as I stare in horror, silenced in shock.

'Fuck.'

'It's fine Es, chill.'

'I'm soooo fucking sorry-'

IT LOOKS SO BAD! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE?!

'Like I said, my fault.' On stepping back, he bumps into the table and jumps away from it. I grab him by the wrist and pull him towards me to inspect the damage. Oh my fuck, it's so bad. It's so obvious. He's in so much pain.

'Stop freaking out.' He murmurs.

'I'm not freaking.' I lie rubbishly, my voice jumpy and insecure. He rolls his eyes and using the arm further from me turns up the radio, making a silly hip jive. _Now_ is not the time.

'Es? Lighten up-'

'I've just fucking _branded_ you- you must be in so much pain!'

He clearly isn't a fan of my panic, nor my attempts to fix it because he does his best to lean his face away from me. I drop the spoon to the side, grap a tea-towel and wrap it in ice from the fridge before holding it against his face. He flinches, tries to avoid it by seeming the big ol' mass of manliness but eventully lets me fuss a little.

'Are you okay?' I repeat. He smirks, silently watching me freak, biting through my lip to stop from gushing out of breath. Why did I do that?!

'I'm fine!' He holds a hand over mine to hold the ice closer to his mark, he squints a little but laughs softly. I'm shaking my head at him.

'Why?' I ask, worried.

'Why did I kiss you on the cheek?'

DUH?!

'Exactly.'

He shrugs and smiles, eyes cast downward.

'Jeeez, Carlisle, if you'd just gone for my mouth, I would've sen you coming and I wouldn't have-' _attacked_ \- oooops.

'I'll remember that next time.'

'If you've been just a little more obnoxious- you would've saved your face. I would've got my second kiss.'

His blue jewels look down to his hand and he gently moves to let mine slip away. For once, it's me that's burning up in my embarrassment. My cheeks have never felt so warm. And they still don't equate to the burn on his cheek. If I've marked him permanently I'm going to end up sobbing.

'Third.'

'Hmm?'

'It would've been your third.' He murmurs, once more looking slightly shy. I raise an eyebrow.

'But I thought the other one didn't count because of – _herpes_.' Best cockblock in the history of cock-blocks. Eurgh. He's still looking a little shy and I'm struggling to understand why. So I nudge him.

'It doesn't.'

'Then you need to go back to school and get a math qualification.' I tell him.

He sighs and pulls the ice away from his face. He hasn't been holding it there long. Which is why I'm concerned that his face still looks like he's undergoing some serious home issues. Though even I can see the pink isn't as harsh as I thought it would be. It's just in a horrible place.

'I might have… stolen a kiss last night?'

…

'What.'

'I'm sorry- I know it's weird and I shouldn't have done it but you were asleep and-'

'I was _asleep_?!'

'Err- yes?'

I'm glad he's looking deeply ashamed because all of a sudden I'm fucking mortfied. I DROOL IN MY SLEEP?!

'To reiterate- you _refused_ to kiss me all night, even when I begged for it because I was drunk and yet the moment I'm unconscious, you lay one on me?!'

'It is sounding exceedingly worse now you put it into context- I'm really-'

'You are the most frustrating man on the planet! Don't tell me you got a feel at the same time!'

'Esme!'

'Well, why not? It was there on offer!' Okay now I'm sounding hysterical but it's only because I'm incredibly offended. He's looking deeply concerned, he's going to freak in a minute. EURGH MEN.

'I really couldn't be more apologetic-' He begins nervously.

'You don't even know why I'm mad!' I rant. He's stern look falters and he bites his lip.

'You're right, I don't…?'

'I'm _mad_ because you're only ever interested when I'm not- _oh_.'

'What? He asks.

But it hits me very suddenly, throwing my perspective out of shape and making me look even worse. How had I not noticed that before?

'What?' He persists in a state f worried confusion. Just like that, I'm not mad anymore, I'm flattered. More than flattered. Confused, too. I'd never had that happen to me before. Like I said, I'd never been rejected by anyone other than him and he seemed to thrive of it.

'You.'

'What about _me_?' He asks, exasperated by his loss on my train of thought.

'You're not interested when I'm throwing myself at you?'

He sighs, relieved and grins mischeviously. 'I certainly wouldn't say _not_ interested... It's just easier to… _relax_ when you're…relaxed?'

'So...what _are_ you saying?'

Fucking say it and watch me melt on this spot immediately.

'That potentially, it'd be nice if you stop acting like you're tricking me into sleeping with you?'

My jaw falls open. Not out of offence. But because he's genuinely right. That's not fair! He's been oblivious for fucking ages! I've been throwing- oh. Well. If he knew that then…. I'm so confused.

'Urm?'

He rolls his eyes, and peers into the batter mixture before pulling back and putting his hand on the dial for the radio volume, turning it the opposite way this time which helps to reflect the low murmur of his voice.

'Esme, you're naturally very beautiful... You _really_ don't need to throw yourself at me to turn me on.'

That sweet little whine from my mouth is disbelief. He's just said _I_ turn him on. He has referred to _me_ as a turn on for him and that- that is a fucking turn on. I am just staring. I can't do anything but stare. I can't even believe he's just said words at me.

'So, are we making food or what?'

THIS MAN?!

Swooping up a handful of flour from the bag on the left, I chuck it in his direction so half coats his hair and face and the other falls in and on his shirt. He bites his lip, shaking his head warning as he grabs an even larger handful and throws it my way.

Hey! Mine was warranted!

'Carlisle!' I say shocked, standing up to shake the flour off.

You must have guessed that the guy is quite a reserved and private kind of sweetheart. So when he roars with laughter, I feel my cheeks go red and I'm acting without even controlling the actions.

'That went down my top, Asshole!' I growl, grabbing another handful of the white powder and aiming it at him. It hits his chest, not that he cares because he's still laughing at me. It's clear who came of worse here.

 _You are going down_.

'You mean _my_ top!'

I kick the stool away as he edges himself to the further end of the corner to create some distance. Pulling a strand of my hair in front of my face, tugging it out of the knot, I realise the caramel curl is streaked with white which only looks worse when I rub it in and frays the wave apart. I look like a horrific 80s tribute band. I've just had a fucking shower, too!

Another soft puff of white billows up to my eyes.

'Cullen!'

 _WAR_.

We pelt each other with the table flour for a long time, until we're both blind in the dust of heaven. It's not like you can even giggle, every breath you take kills you.

There's no ammo… except the bag of flour on the table. We both reach for it. But because it's closer to my side and his movement was too fast, it falls to my feet in a miniature explosion, still half full with the sting of blindness. I grab it immediately.

But I'm being scooped up, _backwards_ ; two strong arms wrapping securely around my stomach and lifting me without the knowledge that I still have the remaining sack of white. He lifts me so easily that it gives my inner fat girl a huuuuge confidence boost. Though it really shouldn't if you think about how defined his muscles are….

I try not to laugh because it suffocates, but his is infectious.

'Are you going to apologise or do I have to force it out of you?' he says playfully, holding me far away from the ground so my only grip to safety is my back to his chest with my legs curled up.

'There's nothing to apologise for! You're the tease with an interest in the unconscious.' I utter breathlessly, trying not to let the last of my laughter kill me. He lowers me, not properly, just enough that my neck is to his mouth, his knees are bent slightly at my thighs and my tiptoes are scrapping against the slippery floor.

'Oh _really_?'

 _Slippery_ floor- fantastic.

'No wonder you're still a virgin. Necrophilia _isn't_ the done thing, Carlisle.'

His loud laugh rattles right through my ears, rumbling against my back and he hoists me further away from the safety of gravity, not faltering once.

You might have remembered that I have three older brothers…who are a lot older but also gave me a shit tonne of experience in horseplay.

So I tuck in my legs and lean my whole weight in my lower back, just at his collar bone.

As expected, he's surprised, leans to accommodate the new weight and slips to the tiled floor dragging me with him but in the safety of his enclosed arms. His laugh turns to a chuckled groan as he holds himself to the floor for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside. I'm giggling, I know- I hate myself for it too, and act quickly to assert my dominance but he's faster and stronger that I am.

He predicts my movements and rolls gently so just the threat of his size (of all of him _, not just that_ ), has me completely trapped, his knees pointed into my elbows and leaning, resting but not sitting, in mid-air.

In one slight twist of the hand, he has the rest of the bag of flour and sprinkles it through the top of my locks, ensuring not to damage my vision to the best of his ability.

'Let me go!' I try to sound threatening but again….I'm laughing too much.

'Give me an apology. A _real_ one.'

'Fiiiine!' I sing, jolting when his knee hits a ticklish spot in my ribs. His laughter turns menacing. But in a kind of hot way. He think he's winning, he's being all cocky. And I'm loving it.

I wipe the hair from my face and put my hands to his knees so it looks like I'm trying to steady his weight and my breathing.

'I'm Sorry- _for_ your blue-balls!'

He growls in playful frustration, throwing his head back in mirth. So I act quickly, and evilly, by pressing both my thumbs into the very inner sides of his thigh so he jumps up and when he jumps from the surprise of pressure on his points, I pull myself through the triangle of his legs and push his chest down so he falls backwards to the kitchen floor again but this time, towards the sink and not the living room.

He's panting with both laughter and lack of breath but the humorous grimace on his face shows he's in a little bit of pain. I should be gentler…but I don't. I move quickly, blocking him to the floor, lying there on the floor with my knees between his head.

Just think, if we both sit up right now we're in the perfect spot for some Cullen-lingus. HA.

'You totally cheated!' He complains, still grinning.

'I don't know what you're talking about?' I reply, taking a seat on the top of his chest. He pretends to wheeze but laughs harder when I don't find it funny.

'You play dirty, Miss Platt!'

'Just because I won. You're just a sore loser!'

He snorts which makes me feel good because it's an ugly sound. What doesn't make me feel good is that he's still sexy as hell.

 _Especially_ between my knees.

'Sore, perhaps. But I haven't lost. I could very _easily_ move you if I wanted to.'

I scoff, and then try my hardest to keep my legs pinned to the spot I put them in but like he says, when he moves, I shift like a feather on a gusty day. He stays still, throws his head back to the floor, laughing exhaustedly.

'You look so good an ice blonde. Did I ever tell you that?' I scoop up some of the flour on the floor and flatten it to his head. He chuckles, takes his arms from my confinement then runs his hands through my long locks, gently discarding of the hairband so that I hear it drop against the floor behind me.

The different shades of toffee, from pale to obscene white, fall to my face in a mess, curls everywhere, tight ones, soft ones, almost non-existent ones.

He runs both hands through my hair again as if combing it through. The movement is outrageously good and if he wasn't running flour through my hair and dirtying my newly washed body, I might be orgasming on the spot.

'You suit the blonde as-well.' He mumbles, fingers knotted in one very long wave as he pulls it to my gaze.

I feel myself go cross eyed. He pulls the rest of my hair forward, looking up at me from the very weird position with a smile on his mouth. He's looking at my face _,_ making the ends of my hair go white by palming fucking flour into them and combing them through. He laughs softly and sighs so that I accidentally shift slightly but he puts his hands on the back of my hips to steady me.

We don't say anything.

But silence is golden.

Especially if the only words you can speak right now are 'fuck' and 'me'.

He chuckles again, and runs a hand through the top of his hair, laughing more when he pulls the powder through to the pads of his fingers.

He has that smart arse-relaxed smirk on his mouth. The one that kind of makes me want to ride it off his face before I come out of frustration. But the flour isn't going to help. Not that I'm complaining.

'What the _fuck_ happened to our _kitchen_?!'

WHAT IS IT WITH EDWARD AND TIMING?


	31. Reasons why not to judge a Saint

_**The reviews everybody has sent me have been extra lovely. I'm so thankful to all of you all and as a thank-you. I've uploaded this chapter up early. Please R &R- I'm so grateful when you do- and it helps me to be nicer to the characters :P**_

 _ **Haha, thank you so much for your comments! I really appreciate them and in return- I hope you enjoy this chapter- I know I did. Mwa ha ha ha.**_

* * *

Without even questioning why I do it, I hurriedly pull my pale positioning off of Carlisle and up onto the balls of my feet. That heavy, thoughtful chuckling is rumbling in his throat and though he takes a few seconds to enjoy his own ridiculous laughter, he eventually pulls himself from the floor to look at himself. Head to toe- coated in the whitest shine I may have ever seen. Unlike Carlisle I haven't turned to Edward once, I went from staring at Cullen's face, and now to his feet. Any part of him my eyes can absorb, they do.

Edward is gawking at us. Or hopefully not _us_ but more like the space _around_ us. Which is lost under a cloud of dust. I can see it in his expression, he's utterly and angrily bemused.

'I'm making waffles?' I try to sing, sweetly. It makes Carlisle laugh harder but for now I just busy my dry hands in patting off the non-existent colour from my clothes.

' _Where_? On the floor?!'

'No.' Murmurs my saint.

'Because that's not how you make them. Regardless of what you've been told.' This might be one of Emmett's funny jokes that has passed along but it falls out of Edward's mouth in the same manner that the shock of his face has; angrily.

'Did you want some?'

'After you've been rolling in it?' He asks, grumpily.

Okay, so I get he wasn't expecting to have the kitchen all covered in crap but what's with the attitude?

'We only dropped the flour, Edward. Chill out.' Carlisle murmurs, returning the disapproving stare but looking far more successful with it.

'All over somebody's clothes…' I whisper to my socks.

'ME?!' He asks. ' _Me_ 'chill out'? Have you seen the state of-' He shuts-up. Immediately shuts up, like he's suddenly remembered how hypocritical it is to be voicing his own complaints after the state of the house for the last four weeks.

I don't need to question the sudden change of heart. I simply need to turn to the side where I'll see that perfect smirk complimented by the roman arch of his eyebrow.

'Yeah- waffles sound good.'

'Thought they might.' I say, knowingly.

Edward leaves the room then. He claims that's he'll come back down when he can smell cooking and similarly Carlisle is eager to make his own exit in order to tidy up his face.

'Thanks to you, I've got to have a shower again!' I complain, finally able to speak when we're alone. Which is weird….very weird. I don't get nervous and I don't get shy. So what's with the sudden burden of both?

'What about me? I know I'm pale but _this_ is ridiculous. It'll be my third shower in twenty hours. Think of the water-bill!' Trust him to be sarcastic _now_.

'Would the fine Doctor Cullen prefer a _sponge bath_? I hear they're popular with the patients?'

His soft features curls up as he tries to abandon such horrors. He's wrinkling his nose and shaking his head.

'No I would _not_ ,' he announces haughtily before changing his tone to a mocking one '…perhaps a cloth should be fine. Just enough that I can see what mess _you_ made.'

I scowl at him though it hurts my eyes.

' _My_ mess?! You threw the flour!' Though it's not strictly true, he _is_ the one who threw it over the kitchen. The side of his face brightens a little and he busies himself in shaking his hair out on the floor.

'Besides, since when did _you_ care what you look like?' I ask him, folding my arms over my chest just to see if it catches his attention. He plays a fair game and doesn't inch his sight from my face.

'Believe it or not, Miss Platt, I am _sooted_ in flour?' He brushes the back of his hand down the side of his torso in such an antagonising way that it draws all my attention to how good he looks in a tight shirt.

How is he so good at resisting my flirting when I'm so bad at it?!

'At least it's not irritating your nipples!'

He stays unblinking, threatening to roll his eyes while simultaneously wanting to question whether Edward is still in the room. He might be blushing under his disguise of flour, I can't tell. Though, it takes a while for his mouth to open and sound to come out.

' _Fiiine_. Go on then, hop it.' He points towards the door, absently grabbing the broom from the side of the fridge and pushing it against my floured feet.

So I poke my tongue out at him but do as he asks despite my showering this morning.

Once in the bathroom, I take a regretful look at my face. I look like I belong a horror film. The pervert roommate with the man-eating vagina - it's perfect. I can't be bothered to dry my hair this time either, so I just brush it through and squeeze the remaining water from it, hoping it'll dry straight. Besides, my one remaining hair band is buried somewhere in the flour downstairs… and someone seems to like my hair being down.

* * *

I'm only 20 minutes in the shower, mainly because I'm not being attacked on the state of my body, but by the time I'm done, the kitchen is sparkling. The stove is heating up, the floor is immaculate and music is playing. The only thing that isn't perfect is the flour blinding him. Though even that has it's positives.

'You've _actually_ got the radio on?'

He's also cleaned the mess in record time- far more impressive! Cullen never plays music. Not intentionally, he's just a very focused person, he likes to give his whole attention to something. Music can distract that.

'A CD.' He corrects with a smile.

'Is it _my_ CD?' It sounds like one of my CDs. More likely mine than his. Though it isn't what I was expecting. Soft, grounding male voices to a soulful beat. Hmm, weirdly deep.

'Surprisingly, no.'

I give him a funny look to which he laughs at and continues sweeping. Like little man Cinderella. Fine, it might not be mine but at the very least, it's Edward. He wouldn't know the first thing to listen to if he actually gave himself the choice. He's too… saintly.

'You've got flour in your hair.' I say with a smug grin. Achievement Esme, congratulations on making the Sex-God flatmate just that little bit cuter.

'It's also in my eyes.'

So I roll mine, wash a bit of kitchen roll under some cold water and pass it to him. He does a shit job, dabbing pathetically at his mouth and under eyes, leaving every other spot pasted white. While part of me wants to leave the flour there as a permanent reminder of my success… The guy kinda needs to be able to see.

'Oh give it here!' I whine, snatching it back.

He does so, scrunching up his face when I attack it and jolts around when I wash the flour from the back of his neck. That's good, at least I'm not the only one that's ticklish. My movements slow when they near the marked cheek, dragging the cooling fabric carefully down his skin and under his jaw, revealing that timid pink next to the harsh line. The pulse in his neck presses through to my fingertips and despite his searching eyes and the slowed, careful breathing, I'm unable to look at him.

'Better?' I ask weakly, bringing my hand away to wash it under the sink.

He blinks a little, feeling along his jaw to make a judgement and nods. I don't know who breaks the intimacy first but I fucking hate them for it. One minute I'm staring at his mouth, the next he's fussing about on the kitchen hob.

He still has flour in his hair but that'll come out if he combs it. The formal jeans are tight round his legs and his shirt grips at his skin as he breathes calmly, his eyes on me as I try to find my bravery.

It never comes. Despite the absolute whining in my areas, or the way my knees seem to go weak every time I accidently brush up against him, my courage never arrives. As the minutes tick by, I find myself more and more unable to meet his gaze for fear I will embarrass myself to the max.

That being said, it's an awkward dinner. Firstly because it's not dinner, it's dessert; the kind that would get me in trouble if I was a crazy mother feeding her children on sugar. But the boys seem to like it and to be fair, I'm no mother and no way in hell are these dumbasses my children. I'm enjoying it too. My waffles are freaking good and the fruit is just as nice. Though in all honesty I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat pineapple with waffles. Nor had I imagined the fruit to be an aphrodisiac to the people who aren't eating it. Every time those lean fingers of his pull the fruit apart into juicy chunks and he delicately places it to his open mouth, my stomach twinges and I have to press my thighs tightly together to ensure pain stops the erotic images flooding into my head.

Shyly, I throw my damp hair over my shoulder to look down to my plate. Carlisle, beautifully colourful again, is stunted in trying determinedly to make conversation but it's not going far. By far I mean it's not going at all.

'Think everyone had a good night yesterday?' He casually asks his friend, watching him with an expectant look: the kind a director would give to an actor after missing their cue.

'Mm.' Edward grunts, still eating.

Blue eyes meet with mine before shyly looking away again. He doesn't realise it and I don't think he's going to realise it for a while but Edward looks nervous.

'Seemed to _enjoy_ dinner?' Carlisle says gently.

Edward grunts again, shovelling the food quicker and letting his crazy hair fall into his face. Carlisle's fighting the urge to look at me. He wants to question the same thing as me. But I've got a better plan.

'Heard you had fun in your sex education class, ey, Edward?'

There's a loud clattering of his fork dropping noisily to the breakfast table. It suddenly feels very foreign around here as if we're trying to impress him or something which is just weird in itself. This is Edward for God's sake. And just as expected, he's blushing harder than Carlisle.

'You _told_ her?!' He asks, staring horrified at Carlisle's face

A flicker of amusement passes our saint but he numbs it quickly. He's biting the very corner of his lip. Nor for any particular reason, he does it sometimes when he's thinking but it's super-hot.

'Huh? Oh? Yeah. _Obviously,_ Edward. I was late picking everyone up?'

'But-.' His Adams apple bobs and with a face of dread he turns towards me. 'Alright, before you even _start_ yelling at me it was Emmett's idea-'

'Edward-'

'In fact! It wasn't Emmett's! It was Jasper's! They'd planned everything. I was totally innocent in this whole ordeal-'

'Edward-?'

'I didn't even know what was going to happen- I was _not_ a part of this?!'

'Edward- I'm not going to tell Bella?'

At his expressions of panic, he's made himself go all red and flustered. More so than earlier. He's not looking particularly impressed with me and I really don't know why. We had a cool conversation yesterday. Why does he look like he wants to kill me?

He's trying not to, really trying but Carlisle gently chuckles and nudges Edward's shoulder.

'Got a bit of a crush, ey, Kid?'

'Drop it, Carlisle.' He warns, closing his eyes as if it might stop the already excited chatter from our mouths.

I've pushed my plate aside now and have jumped to the middle of the table, closer to them. The grin on our landlord's face is so sweet and so charming, I'm almost surprised that it's being made at Edward's expense.

'Did she _sleep_ well last night?'

'Es!' He groans. 'We're not having this conversation!'

'Did you find the condoms?' The way this falls out of his mouth, so effortless, so without suggestion- I have to do a double take.

I think it's fair to say Edward and I reflect each other well in that moment. Both our jaws drop open as we look in shock to Carlisle, laughing outrageously because he physically can't contain it, and then we look to one another.

'Oh my fuck! So you _were_ looking for condoms!'

'No!' He yells sheepishly, cringing under our teasing. He's worse than Carlisle. Yeah he's blushing and acting grumpy but he's also laughing a lot. Or in this case, trying not to. Boys are so strange?

'Edward! I thought you were trying to comfort me, you ass!'

'I was- you'd already told me where they were-'

I throw some sort of napkin at him still laughing while Carlisle receives a playful punch in the arm and guffaws breathily from it.

'You really kept that _secret_ well, didn't you?!' Edward sneers, returning once more to the last of his food. Carlisle is still humming, taking a hold of his glass with one hand before draining it. His beautiful cheek is still stained with the effects of a wooden spoon and it kills me.

'You _were_ looking for _advice_ , Edward.' He looks to me via example. 'I told you not to ask me.'

The remark catches my attention. Not due to the blatancy of it but the casual way Carlisle pulls me into the conversation. Like he does it on purpose, like he wants me to be included. The glare of dark green eyes are enough to silence Carlisle's showing off. The kid turns to me in a forced huff, eyes burning but fighting hard not to look too immature.

'When I said to Carlisle _I didn't know how to approach you_ , this _isn't_ how I imagined it coming out…' The way he refers to Carlisle in this sentence almost sounds like a curse. But it's nowhere near the damage of his words.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

'Don't ask me anything weird?' I plead, miserably. Don't ask me anything- I don't know and I don't care. And if he _dare_ questions me on what to do with an erection- I'll puke.

'No it's nothing- its fine it's just-. Eurgh, I _really_ hate you sometimes, you know that?' He's talking to Carlisle now whose hiding his face in his drink. With an overly deep breath, he starts again. 'I need you to… talk with Bella.'

'NO! Edward! Fuck off! Do your own flirting. If she's not sleeping with you- It's not my responsibility!'

For just a second, I wonder if Edward's going to be pissed off but he seems to have anticipated my reaction and continues calmly.

'Es! _Listen_ to me!'

With a groan, I look to Carlisle whose very expression is encouraging me to help. Eurgh. Fucking _prepubescent_ children.

'What?!' I say sourly.

'I want you to talk to Bella about- contraception?'

IS THIS A QUESTION?! HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW?

'Don't be a prick, Edward. She's not an idiot.' She can't be? _Surely_?! How could you be that blind?! Especially if he was looking for them yesterday?!

'Esme! I'm asking _for_ her! I told her to talk to Alice about it and she didn't want that so I suggested you and she said she'd never be able to bring it up.'

'Fuck off.' No. Please no. I don't want to do this. No. No. No. No. No.

'Es?' Cullen says softly, his eyebrows furrowed where he's trying really hard not to laugh. It's almost like he does it deliberately, like he manipulates his voice into teasing my heartbeat. I'm gunna go nuts I swear.

'Can't she _Google_ it or something?!' LOOK IN A BLOODY WOMEN'S MAGAZINE?! _Anything_?!

'Esme, _listen_! She just wants a… conversation?'

Blue crystal eyes seem to be cautioning Edward.

'No.'

'Just a small one?'

Carlisle laughs loudly and then returns to avoiding looking at me.

'I'm _not_ giving your _girlfriend_ The _Talk_ , Edward! Fucking hell- if she hasn't had it yet then you're both _too_ young!'

Far too young. Isn't this common knowledge now? Just look it up?! There's plenty of porn out there!

'She only wants to know how to put a condom on!'

'She's got a dick?!'

At this, Cullen falls off his chair, gasping noisily for breath in between cries of laughter as Edward becomes bitter by my response, frowning hard.

'No! On _me_!'

'FUCK. _OFF_! I'm not going anywhere near you!' EW!

I've leapt from the table now away from him, my hands raised. I'm going to be honest, I'm making a bit of a fuss because Carlisle's laughter is incredibly sweet, and Edward's response is hilarious. I know what he's asking. And I still don't want to do it.

'ON A REPLICA!' He cries.

Yuck. Just looking at Bella, I should've known this conversation was going to come up eventually. I _am_ surprised it's come up with _me_ though and not Alice. I don't know whether to be pleased or not. I am still a little pissed at Alice for getting me in trouble earlier- even if it's not her fault- but not enough that I'd wanna upset her.

Similarly though, if I help Bella with this than maybe she can replace me in this little clique and I won't need to discuss my vagina habits every two weeks… This is better than I thought? Besides it's just Bella? Bella is far easier to talk to than the others. She won't even want a conversation- its brilliant.

'You want me to _talk_ to your _girlfriend_ about contraception?' I summarise, sighing regretfully.

He's struggling to say yes. He keeps opening his mouth before hesitating and closing it again. Eventually, he nods, encouraged by a reassuring nod from our landlord.

'Fine, I'll talk to her. But don't you _dare_ tell any of the others.' I don't need Rosalie getting jealous that Bella came to me and not her. 'Or the boys!' I add. I also don't need more reasons to be seen as a slut under Emmett's books.

Exhausted, both of them- one in utter joy and the other in entertained frustration, they both reseat themselves silently. Neither needing to fill the silence with conversation but also both comfortable at the sudden impasse.

I have about forty odd questions running through my head. One- since when did I get a reputation as some sort of teacher on this thing? Do I do lesson plans? Two- How long has Cullen known this question has been in the air? And how is he _still_ finding it funny?!

Three- When can we stop talking about everyone else and find our own little space to get teaching?

* * *

Rather than spend time in our presence, once his plate is empty Edward thanks me and sulks off back to him room to further ignore the crippling deadlines he has while Carlisle and I stay downstairs. My aim is to finish drawing out my piece on a canvas, maybe see if I can get the outline done but I surprise myself in going even further than that and before I know it, I'm painting down a base coat.

Which is normally something I wouldn't do in clothes that don't belong to me on one of the world's most soft carpets, but I'm not being discouraged against it and at the very least, I have put some paper down.

This time the CD is changed for the radio. It's mainly just background noise, giving the news highlights of the past week. Carlisle is studying at the table behind me, enraptured thoroughly in his own hard work but when I come to look back on him, I find he's frowning at a spot on the wall, thinking hard.

'What?' I ask. He focuses a little harder, laying the tip of his pen on his bottom lip to politely hush me. The frown become fiercer.

I follow his line of vision and then focus on the audio announcement. It's some local advert for some kind of charity ball thing. They've just mentioned the hospital's name. It's some kind of fundraiser, I think and it's- uh oh.

'Carlisle?'

He's facing his work again, glaring hard, his jaw tight.

'Of _course_ he'd be hosting the event. I forgot how invested he is in the Neonatal unit. How _generous_!' He's mumbling under his breath but not doing a good enough job.

'Carlisle?'

'Why would he _leave_ it alone when it's a chance to make a profit, huh? Self-invested _Bastard_!'

He catches my eye and softens a little, looking slightly guilty at his sudden outburst. I don't really know what it means. It's just some ball or something, right?

'Sorry.' He murmurs guiltily, rubbing his forehead as though his hand is a scourer and his forehead bears a mark of shame. My heart bleeds for him.

'How's studying?'

This pulls him out of his thinking state, he hears the word studying and cringes slightly, eyeing his paper miserably.

'I'm pissing myself off. I keep misreading the cases.'

His tone is still a little short, even if his expression is better so I gently wash off my brush and lay it down before properly facing him. He's looking tired, even if it is early evening, and probably a little worked up, too.

'You just need to relax, you know you've got this.'

'I know.' He whines gently, rubbing his face and stopping just at his jaw where he finds a patch of flour. He fingers it slightly before pulling his hand away to stare fondly at the powder. I'm by the table and ripping off his notes to leave him with a blank sheet, I sit on the chair closest to him, staring.

'Es- I would _love_ to- _but_ I should really study-'

I have no idea what on earth he's referring to but nevertheless, I settle myself comfortably and clear my throat.

'I've got back ache.'

'What? Where?' He instinctively reaches out for me to turn despite the fact aches are not things that can be detected by the human eye. As he goes to stand up, I slap his hands away and fold my arms across my chest.

'I've got back ache. What can you do for me?'

His fair eyebrows lower just then and that beautiful smirk crosses his face. The amusement in his eyes is a flighty look but even from here, it pleases me.

'Is this a symptom or an effect?'

'You tell me.' I reply. He stays silent for a long time, collecting his thoughts together before finally raising his finger to alert his questioning.

'Well, how long have you had it?'

'A few days?' I guess, shrugging. I really have to concentrate to remember some of the other signs because I'm confusing myself with whatever I'm meant to be suffering from and we haven't even started.

'Temperature?' He asks, doodling on his pad.

'Err. High?'

He pouts slightly, biting the inside of his lip before pressing the back of his hand to my forehead and sighing.

'Hmm. Just as I expected.' He surmises carefully, shaking his head so that his fringe moves. 'Very hot.'

He's chuckling softly, but I have to look away. I fight the urge to smile and roll my eyes instead. Even if it was cute it was also incredibly pathetic.

'So you have back ache and a high temperature?'

'I don't feel good.' I confirm.

He thinks harder, head tilted like he's watching me when I know for a fact he's running through the index in his head. His fingertips gently tap against the cover of his nearest medical journal but I refuse to let temptation sink its hooks and pull the book into my reach.

'How have you been sleeping?' He poses, still thinking.

'I'm cold.' I interrupt. 'I'm really tired and keep shivering.' For effect, I give in to the shiver that's been running along my shoulders for the past hour. Is this overselling it? Maybe I'm not being subtle enough?

'Do I do a pregnancy test?' He wonders, lifting his chin.

'No!' I snap, glaring. Far too subtle apparently. 'Ooooh actually! _Yes_! Yes, do a pregnancy test.'

Ey, this isn't so difficult after all!

'Alright. And the results?'

'Well I'm not pregnant?' _Obviously_.

'Is there something about this hypothetical urine that's meant to be telling me something?' He guesses, judging my reaction. I nod carefully.

'You're dehydrated?'

'Very. I've been sick for days.'

His teeth graze his lip and with a smile, he gently poses his theory.

'Might you have a bladder infection?'

'I must do, Doctor Cullen.' At this, he looks exceptionally pleased with himself, leaning his head to his closed fist. 'But go on then, how do I get rid of it?'

'Plenty of rest and water and over the counter antibiotics. I would avoid bubble baths and sex for a while and return if the symptoms persist.'

That diagnosis is far too easy, I need to think of something better. Though his grin catches me off guard and I can't help but just tease him again. Even if it pains my bitter heart.

'That's a joke, right? Avoid sex _again_?!'

'If you have an infection then yes. You don't want to make it worse.'

I shake my head at him, raising at eyebrow playfully. 'So is that what you're going to specialise in then? Celibacy and all things A-sexual.'

The only change in him is that at my comment, a little more air flows out his nose.

'I _highly_ doubt it. But the patient needs what the patient needs…'

He still has a sombre look about him. Not one that's necessarily sleepy but one that's tired. Like he could do with a bubble bath and a glass of wine and a blow job and a book. Not together of course. Maybe I should rearrange the list to start with wine first, blow-job second-

'Must I go tomorrow?' He sighs eventually, his knuckles fidgeting against a warm cheek. I look up from the textbook to briefly catch his eyes. I had no idea he was still looking at me- I thought he was reading.

I swallow the hesitation into my gut.

'Yes.'

'You don't sound convinced?' He suggests, attempting a smile but his eyes are heavy and it wouldn't surprise me if he ended up closing them both and settling on the sofa.

'We're not arguing about this again, Carlisle.' I'm meant to be saying this with such force that he doesn't question it. Instead it comes out like a whisper, falling to the words on the page and blending in with the various Latin phrases.

'What about your painting? At this rate you'll have it done by Wednesday and I won't get a chance to see it?'

To be truthful, I was hoping that for once painting wouldn't come so easily. Just so I have an excuse to stare harder at his features, spreading the work along for the week in order to keep me occupied. The comment almost goes unnoticed but as I look to the canvas behind me I suddenly realise he's wanting to see the finished product.

'I could always send a photo if you'd like?'

'I _would_ like.' He confirms. 'I'd like that very much. I'm interested to see what you make of it... What you see of me…'

Though I smile foolishly, he catches my humiliation and for reasons that don't flatter me, I let my hair hide the brief concern in my face. I'd never thought about him _wanting_ to see the finished product before. I'd never considered I'd model it exactly on him, either…

' _Must_ I go tomorrow?' He repeats, softening his voice even more than before.

' _Carlisle_.' I warn, toughly. He chuckles lightly and pulls himself to his seat so that he's forced to sit up straight. I do look at him now, hard, despite the laughter in his face. 'Did you even cancel your ticket?'

'Hmm?'

That means no.

'When you decided to stay- did you cancel your ticket?'

'If I say yes then-'

'See? You want to go. You know you want to go! Stop resisting.'

'I know I want to be at home far more?'

With a groan, I push myself from the table, letting the chair struggle against the carpet as I distance us and stand by my painting. It's not a fair trade. I feel even more miserable at a foot away than I did from this morning.

'I haven't upset you, have I?'

'What time is your flight tomorrow?' I ask instead, rubbing a hand along what should be the dark of the trees to see if it's still wet. No paint burdens my skin.

'Four in the afternoon.'

'Have you got everything packed?'

He waits for me to look at him before answering and then he slowly lets his head fall in a nod, fingertips pressing softly into his lips, knuckles resting against his nose thoughtfully. 'Yes, thank you.'

'I'll drive you to the airport if you'd like?' I try to say this casually but with our time passing by so quickly, a nervousness has crept into my tone. There's a gentle sound of scratching as he doodles with his pen onto a blank sheet of paper.

'Thank you, Esme.'

It's been six and a half minutes of me completely avoiding catching his eye or too much of his face and it's killing me but I can't bear to share his silence. I look up. I look up and almost wish I hadn't.

'You look tired, Carlisle.'

He raises his face to acknowledge me and nods blankly. 'Yes, I suppose I do.'

Listening out to the radio again, I wait for the hourly announcement of the time. It's later than I thought. Its early evening. But then we all got up late and we've all been rushing around since.

'Why don't w- _you_ get an early night?' The temptation to say _we_ burns so painfully against my lips that I decide to drop it.

He checks his watch and shakes his head. 'It's too early. If I sleep now, I won't sleep later.'

He's clearly misunderstood me. I'm partial to a casual nap throughout the day, as he presumes I'm encouraging, whereas he's fully against it. Sleep for him is the same time, the same place, every night. The only things to interrupt this being work and emergencies. And as of late, me.

'You could watch a film? Or read?' I'm glad I added the last one, he never watches films, he's always got too much work to do.

'If I read, I'll sleep.'

I'm tempted to roll my eyes and chastise him. Instead, I pull the three paint brushes from the jar and dry them with a cloth, committing their detail to memory for a excuse to avoid his face.

'I'd watch a film with you?' I say this weakly, far weakly than I would've liked and I'm furious at myself for not being able to make the suggestion more suggestive. He smiles softly, and shrugs.

'That would be nice?'

Either he doesn't know where I'm going or he doesn't want to know. It's giving me anxiety and all of a sudden I feel like I should be breathing into a paper bag.

* * *

We leave our crap on the side, we leave the books open and the canvas drying and decide to watch a film in his room because it's…comfier. And warmer. And it means we can lay down?

He's still not catching my drift.

But I'm hoping that's down to how tired he is. He puts the TV on with a careless hand, flinging the remote into my hand before collapsing his whole weight into his bed and letting the duvet engulf him.

'Carlisle?'

'You choose, Hon. I'll watch anything.'

The careless way he manages to slip a casual flirt into his phrasing makes me shiver. Even with his back to me, I'm throwing myself into an excessive panic at how gorgeous he is. My vulnerable heart thrums deeply in my throat, my hands damp with sweat, wringing out the wrists as my legs fail to hold me up. He's so unbelievably sweet. So sweet and so beautiful.

'Carlisle?' Eurgh, grow a pair, you baby!

He's buried in his pillows, hiding his expression and breathing so smoothly, I can see his back rising. At the call of his name, he stirs, lifting his face up begrudgingly but seeming to forget his frustration when he looks at me. He almost smiles. He almost frowns.

I don't know how they do it, without command I'm guessing, but my feet lead me to the edge of his bed, the very bottom side with my shins pushing up against the leather. I push myself up on my tiptoes and slowly let myself down again. My face is pathetically shy, my mouth unexpectedly quiet.

'Yes?'

…Here goes…

'Did you want to-?' My mouth stops but rather than alleviate my stress, he pushes himself up the headboard, fingers wrenched in his hair o wait for me to find the words. At his positioning, I'm even more without words than I was before.

'Hmm?' There's a moment when his face looks so confused I'm sure this is the least of his desires. But he arcs his back, cocking his head to the side, his lips smirking. I say nothing, I wouldn't be able to hear myself anyway. My heartbeat in my ears is far too loud.

'Is this why we're in my room?'

My heart beats faster from distress. His blue eyes, their whole depth drowns me and I hate how voiceless I've become in the last two-hours. Just when I think I'm going to cave at his denial. When I think my legs are going to give out beneath me or I'm going to run off in embarrassment, he raises a hand and uses an index finger to beckon me forward, watching me amusedly.

My stomach turns to knots. Maybe because I'm facing him, because the chance is so close, because I know it's going to happen. I want to claw his face off with excitement.

His eyes flicker to the semi-open door but with little less than a look, he focuses to my slow steps and leans his forearms on his knees. It's the way he does it, so without concern that it makes me question who's the experienced one here and who's the trainee.

I sit next to him on the bed with my back towards the door. I'm angled towards him and the window, breathing shallowly. He grins, which I'm hoping is a cover up for his own shyness but it only makes me feel even more nervous.

After his remark this afternoon, I've decided that throwing myself at him is no longer an obligation. I don't _need_ to do it. I _need_ him to kiss me. Which is something I've never had before. I've nearly always initiated things like that- I've _always_ been in control. And the abandonment of such control is equally as frightening as how desperate I am for his mouth on mine.

The passing of seconds while I wait for him to do something is agonisingly slow. My eyes are posed dreamily to his face, not moving. He keeps his eyes on the blanket, wetting his bottom lip with a pink tongue. It takes everything I've got not to groan.

'What are you doing that for?' There's my voice. Thank fuck, I thought I'd actually lost it for a moment there.

'Hmm?' he says slowly, his words tripping him over in a slight shake but his smirk comes up to rescue him.

'Preparing yourself as if this is some sort of-... _entry exam_?'

Nice. Nice choice of phrasing there…Well done, me. He swallows again, hard like he's taking down another glass of water.

'I'm nervous?' He tells me honestly, the cheeks glowing at this point and the eyes staying well away from mine.

I sigh, gently. He tries to smile back to me but it's a little too straight. Whatever he's thinking about, he's thinking on it way too hard.

'Don't be.' I say encouragingly. 'Just kiss me like you would a _normal_ girl.' _Please_.

He rolls his eyes, leans ups on his knees, floured hair curving around his forehead and his chest heavy with silent breaths. He hasn't even done anything yet and I can already feel his heart pulsing against mine from a mile off.

I'm going to get bored of waiting and bloody attack him if he doesn't hurry up. He's far too nervous, so nervous that it seems to take over his logic.

And when he finally kisses me… I fucking hate him for it. If it's even possible, which I highly doubted at the time- he's worse than this morning?!

After the build-up of his body and this whole day- this had better be some fucking joke. Cold, tight closed mouth to my full pout. It almost hurts.

'Yeah, if you could now try to kiss me like you _actually_ want to, that'd be great?' I criticise but regret it a little when he bites his lip. It's hard- he's naturally so brilliant that to not _have_ that brilliance, to be able to feel it's anticipation without arrival, is equally as frustrating for both of us. He _should_ be amazing at this.

He comes forward but I stop him at the shoulders, pleased with my bravery. As sexually infuriating as it is for him to destroy my own build up- it's also somewhat reassuring. It makes him more... earth bound.

'You're too rigid.' I tell him softly. 'Don't just kiss me with your mouth, use your… body.'

Highly dangerous territory.

He adheres to my directions though they confuse him, and lowers his shoulders, attempting to relax. The grin has been replaced for a sweet smile but this time it feels more meaningful. It's not a bad effort.

'Like so?' He asks, indicating his shoulders.

'Yeah.' I nod supportively. 'Now kind of, angle your face towards me but… that's it.'

It's always nice when your student is a quick and enthusiastic learner. Even better when just his face is enough to make your thighs feel hot.

'Did you want to try it again?'

Again, he deliberately presses a set of hard lips to mine and for the second time running, it doesn't just rain on my parade- it pours. I could cry from frustration.

'You're doing it again.' I mutter, unimpressed and trying hard not to let my irritation bleed into my tone. I'm convinced he's heard it.

'Doing what?' he asks innocently, his tone warm and his expression deceitfully naïve.

'Kissing me like I'm a relative. It's _weird_.'

He closes his eyes again, and breathes evenly. 'Sorry.'

'Maybe I'm not the best person to learn with?' I say softly, unable but to force a little bit of slyness into my claim. It works a charm.

Finally he straightens up, his expression calculating as he gives me a bit of energy. 'Not at all. You're perfect, I swear. Let me try again?'

I don't know if I'm more flattered by the fact he referred to me as perfect or if he wants to try again, He doesn't need to ask…but I still love the fact he did.

'Just keep your mouth open- no not like that.' I'M GOING TO LOSE IT IN A MINUTE I SWEAR. How did something this _simple_ get so hard?! Eyyyyy dick joke… not the time.

He frowns and deflates his shoulders like I asked, keeping his teeth over that bottom lip and waiting my command. I'm going to chew it off for him if he keeps fucking tormenting me like this. Jesus, what is his problem?!

'Look, keep your lips parted-'

'But what lip do I take-'

I try not to…really… but I just have to sigh. 'Don't think about it too much, just-'

My sentence doesn't even get to finish. He's already thrown himself at me, curling a warm hand to the back of my neck and placing a heavy but still soft mouth on my own. He's closed his eyes, tightly, his eyebrows pulled in a frown as his lips take mine in a _sweet_ captured _embrace_.

The gasp floats aimlessly from my mouth to his and he kneads warmth into every fibre of my body. His fingers tying himself into my hair as he does the same with his lips to mine.

You would assume it's just another type of genital based need that yearns for him at this moment...but it's not. Though there is heat in my abdomen- impossible to ignore, there's an overwhelming intoxicating desire coursing through my veins, into my fingertips and though I ache to…I keep my hands out of his hair and simply let my mouth mould to his own, taking all that I can from all that he offers and never more.

He lets go, retracting slowly from me so that we both have an edge of panted breathlessness to our voices. His cheeks are still pink but he's smiling. He knows he's done well. More than well- I can still feel the excitement bubbling away in my blood.

'Sorry, I couldn't wait any longer,' he tells me, eyeing my apparently bewildered expression and looking away for a second. 'I was losing my patience.'

OH….GOD. How the fuck am I meant to snog the guy if I'm this fucking pent up from a kiss?! A KISS?! This has got to be a joke?! Why was he fucking about when he can clearly kiss me just fine?!

'You did well.' I say with a delicate smile feeling suddenly as if he's poisoned me with his own nervous energy. I'm so surprised by the sudden turn of events, I'm very nearly shaking. He's grinning. Grinning so proudly that my realisation doesn't want to take place.

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Just…maybe warn me next time.' Before I keel over and die from fucking excitement. How the fuck do you calm a heart rate?! Or how do you cool down from a fire? I can't

'Ah, but where's the _fun_ in that?'

The glint in his eyes, the mischievous smirk lights up a little more at my confusion- oh. Oh God. YOU ARE _KIDDING_?!

He was _teasing_ me?

I guess I agree because I don't say anything, I'm too amazed. My chest moves in silent but heavy pants, lifting so that I can feel the cardigan move with gravity. He was teasing _me_?!

Oh, he did it so _well_.

'Esme?'

I try hard to hold his look but I'm almost ashamed to admit his success to myself. I want more, I need it and the desire is making my head dizzy.

'You _fooled_ me?' I utter, watching his expression carefully in case it makes him into an overconfident Prick. I'm not that lucky, he's as beautiful and as charming as ever before with not a hint of malice of deception to his act of deception. He must be able to see my chest moving so hungrily for him.

'Forgive me?' He asks sincerely.

Forgive him? He's essentially taken the oxygen from the suffocating and restored them at the last moment. Taken the food from the starved, the water from the thirsty-. Urgh...

'Carlisle- you did that on _purpose_! I _thought_ you were- I thought- I. Err?' I don't know what to say, so instead I lift my hands into my thick hair and gve some air to the roots in hope it'll give me thinking space. He watches curiously for a second and I have to wonder, if the only things different was the ngle I'm facing him and the clothes on my body- would he be turned on?

That loving imge seems to tie itself into the very places his touch caressed and with a murmur of resentment, I let my hands fall from the depths of my waves, down my throat to rest at my collar bone.

'I apologise. I just wanted to ensure that your preconceptions didn't outweigh your judgement.' While he's still defending himself the padding of my middle finger presses against the pulse in my neck. It's wild, beating fiercely, hungry for every inch of him.

WHERE IN THE SANE FUCK DID HE LEARN TO KISS LIKE _THAT_?!

My skin is pulsing _for_ him.

'Besides, I adhered to your suggestions?' This is a softer claim on his part but it still makes my inner self groan.

'I can't be sure about that now…' I say teasingly. The heavy flow of oxygen from my mouth is making this comment harder to believe.

He smirks, fingers my straighter hair with before curling it down the side of my face and under my chin, he lifts my face to him, smiles with his eyes and leans slowly towards me. Despite the fact I asked for this and I'm still itching to pull him towards me, my voice catches in my throat. The smile widens, eyes cast down to my mouth as I desperately stutter a breath or two.

I want him so badly that my own self-survival is trying to sabotage me.

'May I try again?'

'Try what?' I can't tell if this is meant to be me playing with him or whether I'm so turned on that I've actually forgotten the point of sharing the air from one set of lungs. Either way, those dark eyes glimmer slightly, the smirk curling peacefully into his face and his words eating me up from the inside.

'Might I kiss you, Esme?'

My taste buds water at the texture of his words, like sweetened ice. Delightfully, pleasing on my tongue as it soothes and satisfies but also burns. I nod back, stretching myself closer to him, closer to his smirk, all the while the heat between us taking over.

He's so sweet and patient, brushing the air around him until his mouth lays against mine.

The thought of his deliberate teasing sparks along my skin and my needy hands search for his neck to connect myself to him. He leans more so that his soft pout moves harder into mine, suggestive against my posture as he guides my spine to lay comfortably flat along his mattress. The hand from my face very briefly weaves itself into my hair. Just where my hands were, recreating the movement and holding me tightly towards him before letting his fingertips gently pass down my arm to my side. I shiver under his touch, eyes squeezed shut and my hands unrestrainable as they grip fiercely to the ends of his hair.

My shivers become stronger, taking a hold of my whole focus as I try and not to let him infiltrate my teaching- but he just feels so _inhumanely_ good.

He parts my mouth with the tense movement of his lips, bearing the threat of his weight into me while staying extraordinarily gentle. I murmur just slightly, a weak sound as I move myself into him, taking the air from his lungs and waiting, greedily anticipating the slick feel of his tongue on mine-.

He pulls away, up out of my grasp so that his hair slips through my fingers, breathing stiffly.

'W-why did you stop?' I gasp worriedly, pulling myself onto my elbows to look at him. Part of me is gasping for air, the other part gasping for him to let my fingers burn over his skin, screaming for release.

'Because I had to.' He answers simply. His lets his thumb stroke my hand nearest to him before standing up abruptly and walking towards his desk, away from me.

Every inch of my skin is flushed with heat, an uncomfortable ache. If this is him _teasing_ -.

'Carlisle?' I plead weakly and for the fourth time this week I feel my eyes glaze over, warming with the suggestion of embarrassment as the threat of moisture moves from one bodily extreme to the other.

'Hey, Carlisle?' Edward pushes the door open roughly, the case of a DVD raised in his hand and an eyebrow looking expectedly at the two of us. I wrap the cardigan around myself tightly.

'Yes, Edward?' While his back is still turned from our visitor, he slyly winks at me, making my heart stop as he turns to him with a reserved smile.

The kid taps the film case with a knock and grins, looking from the both of us questionably. I hate Edward so much in this moment that I feel like I'm going to lose my temper but it's nothing compared to the words that fall out of Carlisle's mouth.

'Sure. We were just looking for a film to watch anyway.'

Part of me is mortified. In fact probably a good three quarters is mortified because my face is still hot and my stomach is buzzing. But that's what we do. I can't even remember what film it is, some sci-fi drama or something but I shuffle to my end of the bed, Carlisle sits in his side and Edward takes up the middle.

Considering I wasn't even that tired, my eyes close pretty quickly and feeling personally victimised, I force myself to sleep.


	32. Reasons why goodbyes are easy

**_So what if I ended up being the nicest person ever and updated early due to the amazing amount of love I've received?_**

 ** _The reviews you amazing people have left have been fantastic- thank you so much! I'm so glad the last chapter was enjoyed because I had so much fun writing it and even more, these next few chapters I have loved reading as much as writing (hope that doesn't make me pathetic). Please be patient, a week won't be as long as you think ;) And even so, it's been so much fun to write :)_**

 ** _I hope you enjoy this as much as I have._**

* * *

 _'Are you sure she's okay, Carlisle?'_

 _'She's fine, Edward. She's asleep.'_

 _'For someone who's asleep, she kicking me quite a bit.'_

 _He frowns at Edward, ready to argue this point but the argument is lost in a gentle sigh and with what only can be assumed a hand movement, he instructs him to move. The bed wheezes slightly as they change sides, his shoulders stiff as he slides into the middle, trying hard not to disrupt her._

 _'Better?'_

 _'There's more room on this side.'_

 _The film has still got forty minutes to go, and though both are wildly against ending a film abruptly, just as they are against giving up on a book until the final line, it's clear that neither is interested in the screen._

 _'Is she kicking you, yet?'_

 _'Hush, Edward. She's just a fidgety sleeper.'_

 _' You would know.'_

 _'Hush.'_

 _Silence takes over a few more minutes, the only sounds being the T.V in the room, doing enough to lighten the evening. The film has been a long one and the night outside has quickly changed from a gentle blue to the darkest night. It suddenly feels a lot later than it is._

 _'Carlisle?'_

 _'I must admit, Kid, this has got to be one of the worst films of the series. I have no idea where this is going, what the plot line is or who the main characters are supposed to be?'_

 _'That's what happens when you don't pay attention to the screen.' Those green eye point accusingly in her direction.  
_

 _The quiet arrives again, excusing the various shouts and screams from the television but with a sigh, Carlisle lowers the volume._

 _'I thought you said she was just a fidget?'_

 _'So?'_

 _'So, why are you turning it down?'_

 _'Common courtesy, Edward.'_

 _'You weren't bothered about common courtesy when you were sat here.'_

 _'Edward.' His tone is less amused now. Almost like he might repeat that very same phrase but he doesn't. He sits and he waits and pretends to be far more focused in the space on the TV rather than the way the gentle breathings are lulling him into a sleepy sense of calm._

 _'Should I leave? I feel like I'm intruding all of a sudden.'_

 _'Edward- hush.'_

 _'What? I was only being courteous.' Though this is a sneer, Carlisle's unimpressed stare says more than his repetition needs to. Which is largely helpful when he's struck by the sudden tug on the end of his shirt. He looks to his left, confused. Though there's no need to be. Confusion fades and he feels largely flattered by the act._

 _The bed moves._

 _'Edward.'_

 _'What?'_

 _'Stop moving.'_

 _'Just a fidgety sleeper?'_

 _There's a gentle sigh and a slight shift in movement as Carlisle settles himself more in a reclined position, nose tickling from the sting of her shampoo which still clings to her hair. It was strange though. How such a soft scent, a fruity berry kind of smell, could be so harshly disrupted by the sting of his own natural smelling soap? He suddenly felt the desire to change all the liquids in the bathroom. Swap them for that gentle feminine smell, the confident, tantalising scent that would grace every step in the hallway. He loved that smell. It belonged to her and though it was flattering to notice his own, it was nowhere near as pleasing._

 _'Alright, I'll shut up.'_

 _Carlisle doesn't answer. He's briefly grateful that the darkness of the room now hides him and he can briefly capture her face without being scolded by Edward. Or so he thinks._

 _'I said- I'll shut up, now?'_

 _'Huh?'_

 _'Are you even listening?'_

 _'Shh, Edward. I can't hear what's going on?'_

 _The kid clicks his tongue, fighting with the urge to grin while simultaneously fighting the urge to complain._

 _'Hilarious.'_

 _He doesn't reply. Mainly because he can feel eyes burning into the side of his skull. So he forces himself to stare at the Television screen. It makes his eyes water. He wasn't as tired when he was sat over there: bored, but here, here is both bored and… cosy. Like sleep might claim him any moment._

 _'When is your flight, tomorrow?'_

 _That's enough to waken him again. But that's not Edward's fault. It's the guilt. The horrible unavoidable guilt that came with leaving them. Leaving her. It make him feel queasy._

 _'Four.'_

 _'In six hours?'_

 _'Afternoon, Edward.'_

 _'Oh.'_

 _As much as he loved hanging out with Edward, and as much as he knew that he needed it, Carlisle also felt a sudden selfish need to be left alone. If you could call it alone. He wanted to just have a last few minutes to himself to wallow, to watch her sleep-._

 _That was selfish._

 _'Are we having dinner?'_

 _'If you'd like.'_

 _The answer was too quick. They both knew it. If he was serious, if he was interested, he would've paused. He would've turned to his side and personally made a suggestion on where to grab food. Further guilt evades his mood._

 _'That would be nice. I don't know what time I'll be back on Sunday.' He amends, making sure to smile slightly._

 _Edward whistles lowly, just a quick tune but it's enough to catch his teeth on edge. Not due to the sound but the meaning._

 _'Quite a long time, isn't it?'_

 _He doesn't answer, he doesn't want to. He just holds his hand to his mouth in hopes it'll be enough to make the point clear. It is. Neither say anything, they watch ahead of them. Avoiding saying the words. Avoiding circling to that very point. A tiny, gasp catches in her throat and out of instinct, Carlisle's head turns towards the sound. She's not awake, but she almost could be with the way her face is positioned so sweetly to the top of the pillow. Before he can stop himself, he gently pushes her hair behind her ear. As much as he liked her hair down, which in fact he loved, he also knew it was half a necessity that it be tied up at night. Not just for her sake. The amount of times he'd woken himself up choking on it was unreal._

 _'Edward, I need a favour.' He says urgently, whispered voice strained to seem even smoother.  
_

 _'And there it is.'_

 _Even when he frowns, he can't find the energy to look too dismissively at the kid. Edward leans his neck on the headrest, letting his hair fall back and glaring at the ceiling._

 _'Go on then, what is it?'_

 _'I want you to promise to do it before I tell you what it is.'_

 _This is a clever tactic. While Edward would begrudgingly help Carlisle at any point, he worked better when there was chance of a mystery._

 _'No chance.'_

 _Carlisle almost does a double take, he was so sure he'd agree that- well. He couldn't be too surprised, it is Edward._

 _'Please?'_

 _'Not after today, no. You know how crap I am at lying to her and you let me gurgle in total suspicion.'_

 _'Hardly, Edward.'_

 _'You do realise Bella isn't even my girlfriend. You know that right? I'm still very much in the stages of desperately trying to impress the girl?! I've potentially signed a death warrant for myself.'_

 _Despite himself, Carlisle smirks watching Edward's entertained frustration with a hint of familiarity. It felt so like himself and yet at the same time, it didn't._

 _'You did fine.'_

 _'Save your comments for when she gets her Dad on me. You know he's a cop, right?'_

 _'I happen to know Charlie Swan very well.' His quick wit has managed to get even quicker in the past second, and though it's outrageously devilish to make such a suggestion, he uses it. Edward turns to Carlisle in disgust._

 _'You'd really stoop that low?'_

 _'I need a favour. If you're willing to help me than I'm sure Officer Swan would be happy to hear would an old romantic my baby brother is-'_

 _Edward's face falls into a picture. It'd been so long since they'd referred to themselves as brothers that they almost forgot it wasn't the case. That it was just an empty term rather than a formal tie. With a dismally blank stare Edward watches Carlisle._

 _He surprises himself in grabbing Edward tightly around the neck and ruffling up his copper hair so that he squirms and fights the restraint in a flurry._

 _'Alright, alright!'_

 _'Will you help me?' Carlisle grins, lowering his voice even further in case the conjunction of that and the sudden thrashing on the bed awakens his neighbour._

 _'Let me go, will you?!'_

 _'Edward?' He pleads.  
_

 _'Fine!'_

 _The arm loosens so that he flies back into the headboard with a groan, rubbing his neck in exaggeration._

 _'Jesus, it's like you want to wake her!'_

 _And for the fourth time this evening: 'She's asleep, Edward.'_

 _'She bloody shouldn't be. Sitting next to you is bad enough.'_

 _A warm chuckling centres in his throat and gathering his cool, he stares ahead and tries again. 'I need you to look out for her…' He lowers his voice so much at this comment that it's impressive Edward still hears._

 _'How does she stand you?'_

 _'I'm not joking, Edward. I need you to…hold the fort down…'_

 _'She's not an invalid, Carlisle. You'd better pray she isn't actually awake right now: you'll be as dead as me.'_

 _And again: 'She's asleep, Edward.'_

 _'Yes- I got that. It's called a joke!'_

 _He takes a deep inhale, using the sweet fruity aroma as motivation to open his mouth and get the words out. 'I just need you to make sure that she's okay. That she eats and she sleeps and that-'_

 _'You really are an obnoxious bastard, aren't you?'_

 _'Pardon?' This is a genuine question. If he was offended, he would be glaring._

 _'She's not going to stop eating just because you're gone, Carlisle.'_

 _Having said that, he was well aware that dinner hadn't been fantastic for the past few weeks. He was missing the roast dinners, the waffles and muffins every day, the cooked breakfast- as of recently Carlisle had been taking over. Food sucked nowadays._

 _'Edward?'_

 _'What?'_

 _'Stop it.'_

 _'Stop what?' He asks and he plays his part so brilliantly, so perfectly well that Carlisle has to re-evaluate his evidence._

 _'Edward, I know you know. I don't know how or why but I know you know… something…'_

 _The television becomes louder, the main character is screaming, a gun held to her head as she threatens to gain her revenge once more,her skin streaked with fake blood. Carlisle ignores it and turns to where Edward is very still, eyes on the ceiling._

 _' Know is a bit strong. On the contrary, I know nothing.'_

 _'Edward.' The sour tone of disapproval has worked its way into his words once again and in annoyance, Carlisle sighs and rubs his forehead._

 _'Alright fine, judging by what your 'guest' said on Friday- I would be lying if I said I didn't suspect something weird is happening. But still. You know Esme, you know she wouldn't like the idea of you… protecting her.'_

 _Again, this very same thought was the one he'd been refusing to accept for the past few days. Especially today. Edward at this point is the voice of reason._

 _'So you'll look out for her?'_

 _'Obviously, Carlisle.' The way he quietens himself is an obvious reference to the resting person beside them. A second later the green eyes look exactly to where Carlisle wants to be staring and back again, making their silent judgement. Edward's sigh is full of regret. 'You know I will but I think you should know that you're being a coward.'_

 _Though he was expecting the comment, it stings just as bad._

 _'How so?' He hates himself for asking, especially when he knows the answer anyway. He's been toying with it for the last few weeks._

 _'The only reason you're agreeing to go is because you're frightened.'_

 _He moves his jaw, catching a brief look at her sleeping form and greedily wishing she might just accidently reach out and touch him again._

 _Or hoping instead that she might wake up, angrily tell Edward to leave, as he'd been kind of hoping for earlier, and demanding for him to kiss her again. Begging just as irresistibly as she had done all of Friday evening. He wouldn't tease her this time, he wouldn't be able to- he'd just kiss her as lovingly as he could, pouring four years of effort into it and cradling her against him.  
_

 _If she wanted that of course. If she wanted to kiss him. For all he knew, she could be humouring him. She could think him childish, she might think him too much- she might..._

 _'Frightened of what she'll think of you.' Edward continues, disturbing Carlisle's staring. He clears his throat and turns away from staring at that beautiful mouth. Edward is watching. He's tempted to tell him to hush again but he knows this time he deserves to hear it._

 _'You're too frightened to fight with her.'_

 _'I'm not willing to upset her, Edward. She doesn't need me telling her what to do and I won't do it.' Or rather- he shouldn't continue to do it. He knew how frustrated she felt by him imposing._

 _'You won't even risk it because you're too afraid she'll be angry at you.'_

 _Before he can stop himself, the bite of his tone falls out of his mouth: 'Yes, Kid. Because I know perfectly well how infuriating it is for someone to control you. I won't do that to her.'_

 _'And yet you're doing it now.'_

 _Begrudingly, he bites the bait._

 _'In what way?'_

 _'Carlisle, you're not letting her make her own decisions.'_

 _Again he bites his lip in hope it will stop him from speaking out of passion rather than sense._

 _'She has no idea who you are. You know that, right?'_

 _He doesn't answer in words, but he does look across to him. He didn't want to believe it, not for a moment but it was such a reasonable comment. She'd barely looked at him twice before a week ago and since last Saturday-.  
_

 _'If you really didn't want to go, you would've cancelled your flight.'_

 _'She would've been infuriated, Edward. She would've thought I was trying to take over.'_

 _'You're too concerned with what she's going to think of you to listen to reason.'_

 _'So I should stay?'_

 _Edward huffs, dismissively. 'You should have, yes. It's too late now.'_

 _It almost hurt how wise Edward could be. Even more so when it came to her. Regardless if she didn't know him, he didn't know her. No one did. She was so hidden, building her personality brick by brick depending on what each person required of her. In one sense, it outraged Carlisle how balanced his flatmates found each other. How even though the two of them argued incessantly, they still seemed to be closer than Carlisle had ever tried to be. The jealousy sparked through him daily._

 _'A coward is still a little harsh of a term considering I am just doing my job.'_

 _'Have you told her?'_

 _For the first time since she fell asleep, Carlisle cringes at the volume of his words._

 _'Hush, now.'_

 _'Home truths, Carlisle. You shouldn't have led her on, either.'_

 _'Edward.' It's a gentle way of reminding him that some boundaries are better left untrodden. Especially when he thought those boundaries were hidden in secret. Apparently this isn't a mutual agreement._

 _'I'm not an idiot, Carlisle. She's utterly besotted by what she thinks you are-.'_

 _He can't help himself, the curiosity singes through his body like fire, flowing from the side nearest to her until the words fall disorderly out of his mouth._

 _'What does she think I am?' He asks, breathily. Edward doesn't pause, he just squints at the T.V._

 _'A saint.' It comes out like a curse but Carlisle can't help but feel somewhat pleased._

 _'A saint? Why?' His immediate reaction is to blame the religious imagery he has around the house. The bible in his desk drawer, the cross on his neck. The poem on the fridge. He almost didn't want to break that ideal. He wanted her to be besotted. He'd spent so many years dealing with the torture of it himself that he wanted to be the reasonable one. But Edward's expression says otherwise._

 _'Because you're too good, Carlisle.'_

 _'So I need to fuck up badly to be considered normal?'_

 _They both smirk. Not because of the humour but how weird it is how him to say the F-word in front of someone. Even if that someone is asleep. It's like a deliberate destroying of impressions._

 _'I can't stay, Edward…'_

 _'I know you can't.'_

 _'Besides, like she said... It's just a week?'_

 _Edward doesn't reply._

 _'What's the worst that could happen in a week?' He's badly trying to convince himself, wishing that for once, Edward would just string him along. Just let him believe it.  
_

 _'What about this one?'_

 _Carlisle cringes again, bringing up his shoulders and sighing in hopes it'll air his headache. Edward always managed to give him a headache when they spoke too long. Usually it was philosophy induced though. There was something maddening thinking that it was just down to basic logic._

 _'It'll give her space to think.'_

 _'You're too frightened to convince her.' Edward murmurs instead and it's such a sore comment that Carlisle doesn't feel guilty about his retort this time._

 _'It wouldn't be convincing, Edward, it would be manipulation.'_

 _'Whatever.'_

 _'It's not like I want to go. Not for a moment.'_

 _Edward rolls his eyes, and it almost acts like a personal encouragement for Carlisle to lose his cool. Of course he didn't want to go. Why would he? She clearly wanted some space and it was only right of him to give her that. Even if it did mean accepting the space on the wrong terms._

 _'You're forgetting that it's only been a week, Edward.' The way he says it exemplfies his frustration. He hated that it had only been a week, it made everything so much more unreasonable._

 _'More like four years.'_

 _Nevermind that he'd only been around to witness two of them._

 _He rubs his chin, scratching underneath his jaw in hopes that he'll find a random path of flour like he did earlier. In all honesty, he was fed-up with the flecks that fell from his head but the ones from his face he could deal with. They served as little reminders to her embarrassment, the way she couldn't hold his eyes without blushing. The utter desperation he felt just to know one of her curious thoughts._

 _'Carlisle?'_

 _'Yes?' He sighs, rubbing his eyes in hopes it'll keep him awake._

 _'I'll make sure she's okay and stuff.'_

 _'Thank you, Edward.'_

 _'But-'_

 _The grumble is unintentional, it just falls out of his mouth guiltily, as did the weight of the evening. The sudden realisation of the act he'd been encouraging._

 _'Yes?' He tries to sound as grateful as he did before but he's already anticipating that horrible suggestion before it leaves his mouth._

 _'But you need to tell her, Carlisle.'_

* * *

The first thing that displeases me when I wake in the morning is the fact that I'm still dressed from yesterday. I'm not surprised by the memory- I'm just irritated. It had a way of reminding me of what _didn't_ happen last night. But what could of. My back is hurting. Probably because of painting and floor trouble yesterday but again- I'm not impressed.

It's safe to say today I am grumpy. Very, very grumpy. Until I turn to the side that is.

My eyes naturally don't want to open, so the fact they're being obstructed by something is even weirder. I rub them a little, ridding the sleep away and frown again.

'Morning.' He murmurs, his voice heavy. He says it so sweetly- I almost forget I'm mad at him. It's hard to be angry at someone who gives you accidental heart failure. Actually maybe its not- yet I'm captured by how particularly appealing he is once again.

'Carlisle?'

'Hmm?' He's got his knees pulled up beneath the covers and holds a book against them- reading from line to line, hiding the blurb.

He's still in bed? With _me_?

'You're reading?'

I'm almost too amazed by the fact we're both under the covers to remember I must look a state. He obviously looks the polar opposite. He's delicately frowning, the way he would do at a newspaper. His hand is in his damp hair that he's pushed away from his face and when I sniff, I'm overwhelmed by the pine soap on his skin.

He's had a shower. And got _back_ into bed?

'What time is it?'

'Early.' He murmurs, turning to the last page with a finger. 'Not quite nine.'

'No run?'

He shakes his head and continues to read. I can't help it, I'm wound up. Wound up that he hasn't once looked over to me- briefly grateful- but furious.

'What on earth are you reading?'

He doesn't stop, but he does show me the cover. I feel myself gasp.

' _That_?' He said he didn't want to finish it!

'It's worse than I thought.' He murmurs.

'B-but that?'

'I'm learning a lot about human anatomy.' He says, amused.

'Like?' I ask.

'Like how- never mind.'

'No- tell me?'

'Just- just how much people will go through in the name of _pleasure_.'

Oh. I'm tempted to curl up next to him. Or even rip the book from his grasp and demand to know why he won't look at me, why he doesn't want to initiate flirting? He's so? Quiet.

He still hasn't looked towards me so I shuffle from the covers, hide in the bathroom and scrub at my teeth for a while until returning. The book is closed by his thigh and he smiles delicately as though he's embarrassed.

'What?' I ask snappily, wiping the excess toothpaste from the corner of my mouth. He smiles warmly at me, as if I'd just offered to cook him breakfast or something ridiculous.

'I have a question.' _Obviously_ \- he suddenly looks like he _wants_ to talk to me.

'What?'

'What is the thrill of being… _controlled_? I don't understand?'

I shrug, lifting my shoulders dismissively because I'm still mad at him. Mad at him for leaving. For wanting to leave. For not fighting it. For not fighting anything.

'Surely it's infuriating?' He goads, eyeing a spot on his door before smiling at little at me. I hate how gorgeous he is.

'Probably.'

'So why buy the book?'

'It's Alice's.' I explain quickly.

'Oh.' He presses his thumb against his lip, circling the edge and frowning. 'I get the feeling you're upset with me…' He says after a while.

I can't help but wince. Of course I'm mad at him. I can't stop being mad at him but the act of him commenting on it is largely uncomfortable. I hate my irrational reactions almost as much as I hate how shit I'm feeling. All because he hasn't grinned at me yet.

'No. I'm just mad.'

'Hey Es?' I want to tell him to go fuck himself and storm out of here but I don't know why. I'm just _so_ angry at him. I don't reply.

'I can tell when you're mad at _me_... it's written all over your face.'

Thinking back to the car, how he managed to make the same comment such a turn on-. I fight to look as determinedly mad as I woke up like this morning.

'Unless you're paranoid.' I mutter under my breath.

'Will you come sit next to me?'

My feet are reluctant this time and I sit on the bottom edge, poking at my knee and letting my unruly hair act as a curtain between us. There's a prickling behind my eyes and though I try my hardest to stay angry- I'm overwhelmed with an urgent desperation to cry.

'Hon- look at me?'

But I can't look at him, not when the sudden delight of his gaze is so unbearable, my hands are trembling.

'Esme?' With a soft touch, he moves his fingers into the sea of toffee waves and pulls my hair away from my face, smiling gently to try and coax a smile from my mouth. It makes my chest wheeze harder. He gently presses his smooth lips to my temples, comforting my fury with such a soft embrace.

Those traitorous tears roll down my cheeks and out of humiliation, I lower my head even more.

'I don't know why I'm crying.' I try to say, biting through my lip in an attempt to conceal my sobs. He's pulled me into his chest, a warm arm coming around to hold me, to restore a bit of strength into my sunken posture.

'Because you'll miss me?' He teases hopefully, moving ever so gently that we're almost rocking together.

'I want you to leave.' I remind him, miserably.

'I know.' He says and I'm briefly hurt by the fact he hasn't considered otherwise.

'I don't _need_ you to stay.'

'I know, Hon.' He holds me a little tighter, nuzzling my head with his chin and tucking me into the warmth of his arms.

'But if I asked you to stay, would you?' I ask measly, my voice dejected and juvenile. It's disgusting of me that in a matter of hours I've sunk this low. Desperation has taken over.

'In a heartbeat.' He vows.

'I _want_ you to go.' I wonder how many times it's going to take of me repeating myself until I finally believe it.

'How about a compromise?' He suggests and his teasing seems to soothe my irrational outburst. I stay quiet. 'I'll go for the first three days and if by Wednesday, we're miserable, I'm coming home. That way you can't be mad at me for not doing my job and I get to return sooner.'

In all honesty, I can't imagine myself not being miserable, the only solution I have is to tie myself around him and bind myself that way forever. Or to delude myself in some way that I'm actually really looking forward to some time alone. Either way, I can appreciate how he's making himself out to be as equally pathetic as me at the moment. Even if I look four-hundred times worse.

He surprises me by leaning down nearer to my face. Startled, I turn away and sniffle.

'Carlisle, I've been crying!' Urgh, I'm such a troll when I cry. It's not even slightly attractive- it's just pitying.

'You're gorgeous to me.' He murmurs, smiling. Lifting my face again to lean against my wet face. 'I'll make it up to you.' He promises, his thin nose soft against my smaller one and his fingers gentle against the roots of my hair.

My voice catches when he kisses me. Not because I so desperately want him, which I always do, but because he's so soft and so convincing that even the sweet curve of his lips to mine is making me shiver all over. For just a moment- it's easy to forget that I'm upset with him.

'You're getting better at that.' I whisper when he pulls away. I wipe my eyes dry with the sleeve of his cardigan and let out a shaky breath, my hands knotting themselves in his shirt.

'I'd like to think so.' He murmurs, a smile gently teasing against his mouth. I almost reach out to touch it, to let my fingertips trace the colour of his plump lip, dropping my hands to let them curl into his bare torso. To wrench him towards me and never let go.

'When do we have to leave?'

He shifts around me, turning to catch a glimpse of his phone before sighing gently.

'Three hours. We have time.'

* * *

Three hours is nothing. It slips through my fingers like hot sand, passing rapidly as he fusses about with some paperwork on the kitchen table and I change into jeans and a blue jacket. He's quiet now. We both are. Somewhat miserable, too. Though that's unavoidable.

'Ready?' He asks, hovering at the front door. He has his backpack hanging on his shoulder, a smaller suitcase under his hand as he scans the living room for any last missing items.

I nod, tapping my key in the palm of my hand. He wastes time and watches me curiously without complaint.

'How about a treat?'

'A treat?' I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.

What's he going to do? Give me a biscuit for learning the command 'stay'? He pats the pocket of his slacks and throws me his keys, grinning when I look in horror at him. Oh sweet Jesus, mother of all things lovable.

'Drive mine?'

I don't know if those words would be more of a turn on than him asking me to touch him. It's a hard fight. Both car and Carlisle are ridiculously attractive. But I have to remind myself of the dreaded common sense.

'Heck no. If we crash in yours the insurance will go through the roof! I'm not driving in that!' As much as I hate admitting it, I don't trust my driving skills as much as I'd like. His car is worth loads- it's his baby. He caresses every touch of it under his skin. My clumsy Oaf hands will dirty its very presence.

It's almost like he's reading my brain and using those very words to persuade me. It works so unbelievably well.

'My car is _sexier_?'

Urgh. You're telling me it is. It's the first time today that I've genuinely felt myself want to return his smile. I turn away, biting my smile in hope I'll make it less obvious.

'I'd rather not kill anyone, thanks.' LIE.

'Es, you're no worse than Edward and he drives it frequently.' This is a complaint rather than a compliment. He raises a confident eyebrow at me, looking so utterly pleased with himself as he leans his spine against the door frame. 'Impress me?'

The movement of such daring words rolling around on his lips is so unbelievably attractive, I wonder how it might lay out if neither of us were wearing clothes.

'Is that a _challenge_ , Doctor Cullen?'

His perfect teeth gleam and with stunted help from my crappy weight-lifting skills, we shove his luggage into the boot. Finally calling Edward down for the last time- and surprisingly Bella, we jump into the front.

'How long has she been here?' I whisper to him in shock, pretending to fiddle with the bottom of the seat as he fixes the seatbelt. Carlisle laughs, waiting until I look at him before rasing a mischevious eyebrow at me, his lips: a loving curve. The others climb in the back saying a brief hello and attempt to make conversation but Carlisle cuts them short and leans back, a flat hand on my headrest like he always does when reversing.

With fiddly hands and an enthused grin, I adjust the mirrors, check them and wait expectantly for him to say something until turning on the engine. How does he sit in this car without falling in love with it? This car is the definition of sex on legs.

'Alright- you're clear. But the gearstick is stiffer than your one. You need to be heavy with it.'

I go to put the car into the correct gear and stutter at the weight.

'You _are_ kidding?' It's impossibly difficult to move. What the heck?!

'It's also closer to your knee than you think.'

I adjust my grip around the knob and groan a little when it doesn't move much. Edward has started to laugh which is severely unwise when I'm sitting in front of him. I unclasp the seat so that its slams back into him painfully.

'Es!' He groans, forcefully rubbing life back into his knee caps. I pull my seat forward again and readjust it, hiding my expression in case Carlisle's heart has broken from my treatment of his valuables.

I'm pleasantly surprised to see him hiding a grin, nodding for me to try it again. I wobble the stick just slightly, uncertain by the resistance it's already put up. It's yet another thing which feels like a personal victimisation. Any minute now, this car is going to transform into a woman and we're going to have a bust up over how much she's showing off in front of the man in question.

'I'm going to break it.' I whine, leaning away once again. 'Can't we just take mine?'

'We're in here now.' Carlisle murmurs, encouragingly.

'Can't be any worse than Bella's truck, Es. That thing's a-'

'Hey! My truck is a perfectly-'

' _Guys_ \- shut up.' I grab a hold of the gear stick again, testing my feet on the pedals and grunt in frustration when it doesn't move.

'Your angle is off.' Carlisle instructs and with a soft grip over my hand he gently lifts and pushes our hands into the correct gear. 'Like so.'

His touch still teases along my veins, my blood rushing around my skin as I think of the insanely suggestive ideas of him helping me to grab his-.

'Show me again?' I ask shakily, catching his eyes with a deliberately empty expression. He's so beautiful- oh God, I just want to snog his frickin' face off.

He looks down to my hand, grazing against the back of it as he threads his smooth fingers between the space mine has left. His palm is warm against my wrist, and all encompassing as he refolds my hand over the- er- head. It almost strokes along the length as he suddenly squeezes my grip, pushing the handle into the correct manner. Breathing suddenly becomes a difficult task, and smiling at him weakly, I find my stomach has dropped into the depths of despair. He pulls his touch away and I mourn my loss for a few extra seconds.

Someone from behind clears their throat. I catch Edward's smart-ass glare in the rear view mirror and focus myself in driving out into the road.

'So where are we eating?' Carlisle asks once we're a little further along the street. Edward keeps making sly remarks about my driving to Bella, and as our Saint has guessed, it's winding me up.

'There's a nice little Italian place really close to the airport, Carlisle.' Bella politely tells us, reeling a few directions off while she has his attention. 'My Mom and I eat there all the time.'

'Travel a lot Bella?' I ask once I'm comfortable enough to relax my shoulders a bit. Not comfortable enough in reality. I'll be comfortable when we can drop our pants and finally-.

Not that I want him to know it, but his car is far smoother than mine. The engine's purr is loving rather than threatening and, excusing the orgasm-inducing gear stick, everything is so easy to move that it's clear to see why he's so comfortable in the vehicle.

'My Mom's from Phoenix. I've only just moved out here for college…'

'Ahh, Edward _loves_ the sun. _Don't_ you, Edward?'

I guffaw at loud this time, hastily returning my focus to the road before catching yet another glare from Edward.

'Nice try, Carlisle. She knows.'

'We couldn't _all_ be cheerful people, huh, Edward? Once of us had to be the cynic.'

'I'd had my bets on you.' He retorts quickly.

Funny kid. But catching Bella's shy smile I'm briefly overcome with worry that Edward's expecting me to talk to her _tonight_? I thought I'd at least have a few days to ignore it or at the very least prepare. I'm not talking to her _now_?!

Once we've been driving for a good half an hour, Carlisle leans over to press a button on the curve of the steering wheel so that the radio comes on.

'Hey!'

'What?'

'Who's driving here?' I complain, looking warningly at him. He smirks at me, interweaving his hands close to his knee and leaning his head back.

'You, _dear_.'

'Exactly- hands off the wheel.'

'Just let me know when you need help with the gearstick.'

'Fondle your own gearstick, Carlisle. I've can work this one just fine.' It comes out quick, quicker than I'd imagined so I face him with a playful gleam biting at my mouth.

Edward snorts, I don't know who at. I'm assuming our flatmate.

'I was only offering?' He murmurs, humorously.

'Eurgh, men are the worst people to drive with! You wanted me to drive and now I'm doing it. Leave me alone!'

Bella makes a noise of agreement.

'Alright, _fussy_. I'll leave you to it.'

Grinning, I throw my right hand out, past the gears to squeeze his inner knee and as expected, he jolts violently.

'Okay- okay. I'm _sorry_.' He chuckles, frowning at me. I wait until I know he's staring my way to poke my tongue at him.

* * *

It doesn't take as long as I'd hoped to drive to the airport. Though in fairness, I was hoping it would take _so_ long he'd miss his flight. We didn't have a chance in hell of that. Bella is a little easier to get to know from the car ride, and even though her suggestions of _I-spy_ piss me off to the max, I'm enjoying having a girl on my side.

I'd probably like to say that I hate dinner. That it suddenly felt as dramatic as the Last Supper with the boys acting as the centre of entertainment for our afternoon but it's not _that_ bad. He sits next to me, picky over the menu which is unlike him. Beneath the table, his leg jitters against mine foolishly, in a way that is difficult to ignore and he takes his time to eat dinner as slowly as I would. I wonder if he's on the same wave length as me.

I've been staring at the added pair for the past two hours and I haven't been able to stop since. Just the way Edward looks at her. The way his grin falls loopy when she refuses to return his smile, his unrestrainable staring as he falls obsessively into conversation with her. Any word that she provides, he hooks onto as though he needs it, like it gives him unexplainable joy. I'm sure Carlisle's caught it, too. He can't miss it but then I realise he's staring at me and has been for a while.

'So go on then, _Skiver_. Give us a run down on what you'll be doing for the week?'

He smiles, pushes around the last of his food and looks towards the only other male at the table. He seems uninterested.

'Doctoring?' He tells me.

'Interesting.' I tease. 'You must be _sooo_ excited.'

He rolls his eyes playfully and leans against his chair, realising now that I've caught everyone else's attention, too.

'It'll be a case of venturing to a few hospitals, talking to officials…persuading them to let me take the exams early.'

'Wait- I thought you were _already_ a doctor?' asks Bella, surprised.

'Kinda.' Carlisle answers modestly. 'If I pass, it will be like an 'official sign off', if you will. To prove that I can monitor those around me.'

Pffft, ' _if I pass_ '. We all know he will. He's never not passed anything.

'Like a promotion?'

Carlisle nods. 'A very stressful and painful promotion, sure.' He looks at me and smiles. 'But I'd take that over being a _student_ again.'

'In our defence, the amount I've learnt about alcohol is enough to make me a brewer.' Edward jokes, draining his coke in one and shivering. 'Students have their benefits.'

'You say that, Carlisle, but you still study mercilessly.'

'I want to be good at my job.' He says shrugging, holding my eyes for just a moment too long.

'You're _amazing_ at your job.'

He doesn't reply but beneath the table he gives my hand a little squeeze before moving to pay for the bill. I follow Bella into the bathroom before we leave, fussing with my hair and my fringe so many times it's starting to go fluffy.

'I always forget he's an _actual_ , Doctor.' Bella murmurs, washing her hands under the sink a few times. 'It makes me feel like such a kid in comparison.'

'I wouldn't take that personally.' I reassure her 'It's just his way of speaking, he forgets that he's not from the _1600s_.'

Bella stifles a gentle giggle, flattening her blue blouse and fixing the creases around the neck. I catch her warm eyes watching me in the mirror.

'You must have known him for a long time?'

'Only four years.' I tell her, smiling. It feels like no time at all. Like I'd casually met him at a bar and had gotten beyond lucky.

'Have you always lived with him?'

I shake my head. 'No, we were both unfortunate enough to live in Student Housing for the first year. He used to buy me coffee.'

The foul cafeteria coffee which tasted like dirt and was the consistency of rotten mud. Eurgh, I don't miss it.

'The same building?' she guesses.

'Nah, I was just across the street. Completely separate structures. I used to use their common room though. It was quieter than the one in my building. _And_ less damaged.'

Probably because the people living there were far too busy sleeping to realise they had a common room.

'Is that how you met?' She asks curiously, leaning against the sink, the ends of her hair curling around her shoulders.

'I walked into his lecture. He offered to show me the right building.'

'That's so kind of him.' She sighs. It would've been kinder had he known the way.

'You met Edward in class, right? Biological something?' Hazards? Biological animals? I don't fucking know.

She nods softly, her fingers pressed into each other. 'I thought he hated me, he wouldn't stop glaring.'

'He's an odd-soul.' I inform her.

They're both quite like each other really. Except that Carlisle is enough to make my head hurt in confusion and Edward, I'm happy to hit around the head with a stick without causing some serious guilt.

'But he's attentive.' I amend. 'It's not often he…' _Er_? 'Well, I guess it's just rare for him to make friends outside his circle…'

Make friends _full stop_. Carlisle was a happy accident. Emmett likewise and Jasper and him say very little to each other. He spoke a lot to Alice. But I'll bet my savings that's her doing and not his.

'Can I ask you something?' Her cheeks colour as she speaks, her eyes wide. My instinct is to say no, considering I know what she's going to say: ' _Blah, blah, I'm a virgin- what is a condom_?'

'Sure?' It would help if I didn't sound so weary.

'Some days I can't even be sure he… _likes_ me? It's _so_ frustrating.' What? Hahahahaha, is trying to get into your pants not _enough_?

'Oh Bella, of course he does. For starters he doesn't-'

'It's just I've been throwing myself at him. _Everything_ , and he won't even kiss me. It's like he's not interested…'

There's a horrible sinking feeling in my chest as I look to her half shrouded in misery and think to Edward gazing at her over dinner. His mention of her yesterday. Anytime he _talked_ to her-. There's a moment when I feel like I need to sit down and breathe through my nose.

'Not interested?' I repeat, confused. 'He couldn't be not interested if he _tried_. He's just…complicated?'

Or a complicated ass. What's her thinking? Surely asking for advice to do with contraception is a big enough hint?!

'I don't understand what I'm doing wrong…' she says softly, itching her wrists and deciding not to look at me.

Holding in the sigh in my throat, I turn her way and smile begrudgingly. 'He's _shy_ … Edward doesn't like to walk blindly into something if he thinks harm is going to be caused. If you're concerned, talk to him. He needs to hear it.'

'Yeah?'

'Yes.' I promise, squeezing her shoulder. She lowers her voice to less than a whisper, her eyes on my shoes.

'Carlisle really likes you, Esme…'

I've turned away now, ready to make my way to the door but she gently holds onto my wrist to pause me. I'm felling the urge to vomit. This whole get up- it's so much more humiliating when a toddler is trying to convince you.

'Look, I know Alice is looking out for you and that we don't know each other very well- but… he _really_ …likes you.'

I smile tightly, lowering my eyes and opening the door to make a quick exit. I know she's probably blushing. I can tell judging by how guilty I'm feeling. So I rush into the hallway where Carlisle is leaning up against a table.

'No Edward?' I ask, having to catch my balance before I stumble into him

'Out the front- Wait a second.' He grasps my fingers, lightly holding onto them and hiding them behind his back when Bella comes out looking confused.

'Just have to sort out the bill.' He tells her convincingly and she thanks him and hurries off.

'What's wrong with the bill?' I ask, zipping up my long jacket and hiding my hands in the blue sleeves. He smiles tightly, waiting for a few more people to pass by until he can be sure we're alone.

'Carlisle- your flight.' I murmur. He sighs gently and nods so that his fringe flickers.

'I know- I wondered if I _might_ …?'

'Kiss me goodbye?' I gulp. I'm so overwhelmed with the joy of such a suggestion. Convulsing in desire and holding tightly onto his hand.

'I didn't think you'd approve in front of Edward...' He ducks his head slightly, shyly hiding his mischievous eyes with his thick blonde hair. It catches the dull lighting, making it seem even more golden, even more perfect.

'You know me well.' I commend him, checking around the corner to see if anyone is coming. We're safe for the moment it would seem but I give it a max of three seconds before Edward comes looking for us.

Carlisle grins at me, brushing the back of his fingers along my throat, and arching his back to leave a gentle touch of his lips onto mine. He's so sweet and reserved, his mouth: a perfect fit. But mischief glides into my bones and as he loosens his stance to let me go, I use my hips to slam his into the opposing wall. I feel him _attempt_ to complain, the way he summons up the sound from his throat and before he gets a chance, I work his mouth open tasting his gasp. His fingers knead into the sides of my jacket pulling me closer under his posture, his heart beating against mine beneath his shirt. My mouth becomes fiery on his, stealing his air, and while I have him so neatly under my desire, I slide my tongue along his, coaxing him gently-

Then I pull away. The ache to drag him back to the car is almost too much. The need to push myself against him, rub my skin along his- is so teasing. The strong pine scent evading every cell of my skin cries for his attention. For those sculptured hands to rest along my hips again, to grasp me to him.

He exhales shakily, breathing in a few times to compensate before pulling himself into a straighter positioning and swallowing difficultly.

'Erm-. Thank-'

I can't help myself. I kiss him quickly again. A hard peck against his lips before resigning myself and walking speedily from the restaurant to Edward's side.

'All okay?' Edward asks innocently.

I nod quickly, holding in my panting, tensing my hands to stop them from shaking excitedly and brushing my bangs out. 'He's just coming.'

Oh- I _wish_.

'I told you it was a good restaurant.' Bella says, pleased.

'The best.' Carlisle confirms from behind. He uses his left hand to comb his fringe back into his sparkling blue eyes before casting a blank look between the three of us, lingering just slightly on my mouth and using his teeth to bite into his own. 'Ready?'

* * *

In the last few minutes, I've discovered goodbyes are far easier to deal with when I'm still suffering from a sudden hormone overdose. After collecting his luggage, he stands by the boarding bit, patiently waiting for the 1600 hrs call for his flight to Alaska. He seems cheerful, if not a little distracted, and keeps falling into a hidden smile concealed by a hand whenever left to his thoughts.

'Have you got everything?' I ask nervously, straightening his coat with the palms of my hands and sighing. He keeps trying to capture my eyes, but all the while Edward is staring at us, I refuse and settle instead to watch him bite the inside of his lip. He nods, scratching his cheek.

'I've checked six times. I have everything.'

'They're picking you up, right?'

'The moment my flight gets in.' He promises.

'Don't get into any trouble.' Edward warns, raising a playful eyebrow.

Carlisle lunges for him, messing up the already disarrayed locks into a further abundance of red. Edward resists the hold, trying to pull out his balance from lower down but they quickly get scolded by airport security and stand up straight, looking particularly sheepish.

'Reason number one on why you _shouldn't_ show off.' I mutter to them, but Edward only rolls his eyes and hugs Carlisle with one arm.

'Behave yourself.' Carlisle warns.

'Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you?' The Kid laughs, throwing a fisted hand towards him but Carlisle dodges it and moves to say goodbye to Bella. The fact he's deliberately making me wait is equally as frustrating as how bad I want him, but I love him for it.

'Thank you for your company, Bella. It was good to see you.'

'You too, Carlisle. Have a safe flight.' He hugs her around the shoulders, ducking to briefly place a distant kiss on her cheek.

Edward and I must look a picture. Though I bet I look worse.

'Hey! I didn't get a kiss!'

'Did you want one?' Carlisle chuckles, raising an eyebrow and leaning just slightly on one leg. He goes to reach for Edward's face, quite without the intention of following through, but he jerks out of his grip and slaps his hands away.

'I was _joking_. Get your hands off me you perverted old man!'

He rolls those blue eyes, tugging both backpack straps over his arms and looking carefully at me.

'Be safe.' I tell him.

'Likewise.' He murmurs, his smile threading itself into my memory like an example of heartache.

He wraps both arms around my shoulders so that I have to stand up on my tiptoes to cling onto him, holding just a little too tightly before sighing. He gently presses his lips not quite to my cheek, but the very corner of my mouth. It's unbearably sweet but before I get too invested in falling head-over-heels for him, I nervously look over to Edward and Bella. They've found the seats around us incredibly fascinating and while their attention is focused, Carlisle takes the chance to wink at me with his right eye so that I actually have to stop and question the immorality of undressing him right this second and loving every inch of him.

He seems to be murmuring the very thing I want to hear without the words; ' _three days_ '.

'I'll let you know when my flight lands.' He says, by way of notification to Edward. 'Look after my car.'

'I'll try not to crash it.' I say, nonchalantly. Spinning his keys around my finger so that they jangle about. He smirks, steps away from the three of us and takes a deep breath.

'I'll see you guys soon.'

I hope so. And with a brief grin and a flick of his fringe, he's off through the gate, walking quickly as if afraid he might change his mind. He waves once last time, smiles and then he's gone, heading off out the country while Edward and I long for him to come home.


	33. Reasons why bullsht has its benefits

_**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I promise you, your loyalty will soon be rewarded! These few chapters have taken a lot of effort to get right but I know that they should pay off. I just hope this is a mutual agreement.**_

 _ **Thank you so much for your amazing comments, please feel free to them them once more and as ever- I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **P.S- Please forgive me?**_

* * *

The first three days I cope _so_ well that Edward takes to texting Carlisle. Much to both my grievance and jealousy.

 **Sunday:**

He phoned me later than expected on Sunday evening, guessing that the both of us were very much waiting for his call. But it was late and from just the sounds of it, he was easily regretting his decision to take an afternoon flight. His exhaustion sung through his tone and though I was eager to know every detail of his evening since leaving him- it was clear that he just didn't have the energy.

' _I'm sorry for the late call._ ' He tells me honestly, yawning against the receiver and groaning at what I can only imagine is him stretching against something.

'Don't worry about it, Carlisle. We're glad you arrived safe. Was your flight okay?'

' _Hmm?_ ' He asks, dazedly.

'Flight, Carlisle. Any explosives?' I look to Edward whose sitting on the sofa, listening to the reply with less than a care about him. He waits a few moments to shake his head at me, his hair copper under our light and his eyes purpled with tiredness. I'm still waiting for the reply.

' _Huh? Oh no. No, not that I know of._ ' He says softly, his words heavy with sleep.

'Well what's your hotel like? Is it really posh?' I'm imagining a bath big enough for four with a luxury bed and chiffon curtains around the side. Almost like a tropical theme.

' _Yeah…_ '

'Carlisle?' I ask, impatiently. I should hang up I should grant him his sleep but I'm far too selfish.

' _Sorry, sorry._ ' He sighs, and there's a sudden thump of a bag against a floor. ' _I am listening_.'

He's not very convincing.

'Did you not sleep on the plane?' I quiz, fiddling with a loose thread from the jacket as I imagine him scratching at his face, his jaw, scrubbing his eyes to make him seem more alert. It's a good three minutes before he answers.

' _Didn't sleep on the plane._ ' He clarifies drowsily. ' _I've got a bit of a headache, too. I'm sorry. Is it okay if I phone tomorrow instead?'_

'Yes, of course.'

' _I'm really sorry- I'll explain-_ ' He cuts himself off with another yawn. ' _Excuse me. I'll explain it all tomorrow, it's just been manic_.'

'Goodnight, Carlisle.'…

' _Mm. Sleep well, Hon. Give my apologies to Edward.'_

And just like that, the call ends. I look up again to Edward who still refuses to look at me as he continues his game on his phone, seeming irritationally bored in my presence. I can only guess that's due to having to drop Bella off back home. He's been quiet ever since.

'Do you have work tomorrow?'

'Not until Tuesday.' I reply. 'Nursery in the morning and the bar in the evening.'

'Is this why you made me stay up till three in the morning for a twenty-second phone call?' He inquires sarastically, his green eyes looking darker in the shade.

I don't say anything. Which is fine because everyone is tired enough that we can sleep easily without reference to our missing landlord.

* * *

 **Monday:**

Monday morning is quiet without him. During the morning, I can just pretend he's at work, which he is. I tell myself the lack of signal on his phone is him to being unable to catch a break from his rounds. Which is believable. And then I spend the day attending my lectures before returning home and painting my submission piece, waiting for the phone to ring. It doesn't. It beeps:

 _Today's been an absolute disaster, too. I'll explain all tomorrow? I'm sorry to let you down._

Edward is late home this evening. He's been fussing about his essays which is why he's locked himself in the local town library till late. Unfortunately it means that when the door opens at twenty to midnight- we both jump out of our skin. At my half-scream, he drops his laptop to the carpet, glaring at me before bending to give it CPU first aid. It's fine. It's just him with the temper.

'Jesus, Edward! You _frightened_ me!'

'Sorry.' He murmurs and out of exhaustion he throws himself to the sofa, head falling backwards against the cushions, kicking his feet upwards and his trainers with it. While he's busy peering at this afternoon's call for attention, I double lock the door.

'Looks good, Es.' He says, pointing absently to the piece in the middle of the room.

This disruption is the first time since midday that I've stepped away from my work. My hand is cramping up from holding the same position for so long and when I turn on a back lamp- I finally see the piece in full-glory. Well. It's only a torso piece. It makes me even more disappointed and because I can't keep my mouth shut, I sigh loudly.

'What's up with it?' He asks out of duty.

I drag my index finger across the opaque face, the dark sinister eyes, and the sharp cheekbones. The paint is dry against my skin, flaky almost with the forest behind still damp with the cold colours of my palate.

'It's nearly finished.'

It _is_ finished. There's nothing else to finish painting apart from a few touch ups here and there. It would've been better if I'd stuck more to the original piece. At least the image on my computer is serving as a good example.

'That's good isn't it?' He guesses, confused.

'Yes.'

He seeks my expression from the corner of his eye. I tilt my head to the side to see it from a better angle. To see the darkness, the greed, the guilt, the sin. The smirk. My hands ache to shred the paper to pieces. I hate it. It's infuriating because it's such a monstrous image. It's not him at all- it was never meant to be him. I hate that this is the image I've decided to piece him into. It's just so _false_?

And it's stolen his outrageous good looks.

'Has he called?' He asks tentatively. The way he asks it is incredibly patronising. In that very sickly tone proving he can already guess the answer. This time it's me who refuses to look at him and with my attention on the original photograph to my right, I surrender a tough answer.

'He's been busy.' I say with a forced shrug.

'Oh.' He says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. 'Have you eaten?'

Why do they treat me like such a child?! I glare at him, holding both ends of the paintbrush in my palms to avoid the temptation to aim it like a dart through his spine. It's not even the act of him asking, it's the asking of stupid questions when he clearly knows the answer. He can see it and still he _has_ to ask.

'Have _you_?'

'No.' He says honestly. I hadn't expected that response. I frown at him. He frowns back.

'Oh? _Are_ you hungry?'

'Sure.' He says with a smile. And I take back my guilt to replace it with the art of distraction. I could deal with being the sitter but _not_ the baby.

So I cook something simple for the both of us and do my best to swallow the contents even though it's nothing special. Edward is similarly quiet in my presence and even though he's just a few years younger than me, it feels insanely like he's trying to look after me. It should be sweet but it's getting on my nerves

'You'll have it done by tomorrow, I reckon.'

Edward's wrong. The moment he trudges to bed, I stay up a little later to add the finer details, catching the ends of the canvas and staring at it until I can't bear to look at it anymore. It's no accident that I forget to take a photo of it, I chose not to and leave it to dry beneath the piano. That way it's hidden from sight.

* * *

 **Tuesday:**

I don't sleep well that night. It's the first night of many. I lie awake for hours, laying in his bed because I can't trust mine, curling up against the pillow and trying several times to force myself to sleep. It doesn't work and by the time morning comes around, I've lulled myself into a sense of dormant frustration, waiting patiently to start my shift and ignoring Edward's constant texting.

The children at the nursery are good fun and though I'm not particularly noisy today, I'm happy to teach a few of them to draw portraits, showing them the different colours and making new ones to their amazement. Their entertainment is the only thing keeping me cheerful and by lunchtime, I seem to have found something to feel good about. Their enthusiasm for my approval.

My phone goes off:

 _I keep trying to get through but it's not connecting. I'll try again tonight. So much to tell you!_

But everytime I try reply, I keep getting a notification saying it hasn't sent. I keep pressing that stupid send button until I turn the damn thing off so that it stops me from throwing it across the wall. One of the younger kids has spotted me hiding in the corner just then, messy hands raised towards me as an instruction to wash them and even his grin isn't enough to cheer me up.

Regardless of the stress of one painting, hanging out with the kids and getting paid for it does cheer up my spirits again quite a bit. Alice has also sent me a message to tell me she's missing me and because I feel particularly lonely, I tell her the same.

The bar is slightly more stressful but pretty much the same job as the nursery: keeping an eye on people and what they put in their mouths. It's quiet for a Tuesday night which is a relief because I can't be arsed to be polite today. It's only the regulars and a few students in meaning that while I don't have to talk to anyone- I'm still incredibly productive in terms of the maintenance work I get done for the pub.

'Give the boys my love.' Stacey tells me as I leave for the night, handing me a payslip with her sharp writing on it. I smile, promise I will do and start the walk home at the dead of night. It's pitch black out here and cold but it's making me feel less like I'm going to suffocate in my boredom.

A horn blares.

'Get in the car.'

' _Edward_?!' Shuddering, I steal a vigorous breath into my lungs and try to rub the life back into my shoulders. He shakes his head at me, rolling his eyes dramatically at my anger. It's his car, half the reason I don't recognise it, and looks like the front has been dented into a lampost.

' _Obviously_?'

He pushes the door open with a foot so that I can climb into it. He can't see because it's buried beneath my exhaustion, but I'm irritated again.

'I was going to _walk_ home?' I tell him through gritted teeth. I have to address him this way: I'm worried that if I speak freely, I'll freak and he'll be able to hear my teeth chatting together.

'I guessed that from the car on the drive.' He says, fiddling with the radio channel. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. He looks over and shakes his head. 'Don't give me that look, I was being polite.'

'Stop _babying_ me!'

'I'm not babying you.' He says with a frown and just when he thinks I'm not listening, he mutters under his breath: 'Carlisle is.'

'Believe or not, I'm perfectly capable of walking myself, Edward!'

'Don't shoot the messenger.' He says, raising one hand from the wheel innocently. I won't just shoot him, I'll shoot the man in question, too. 'Have you-?'

'YES! _YES_ I'VE EATEN!' I interrupt him, grumpily sinking in the seat and folding my arms in hopes it'll stop me yelling at him. He sniffs in an attempt to hold his laughter and focuses on the road.

At home, he almost deliberately pisses me off now he's suddenly picked up the art of texting but I know that's pathetic so I don't say anything. Quite literally- I bite my tongue.

'I take it he hasn't phoned?' Edward asks cautiously and it's almost like he's being nice for once- until I see the smirk. It makes his tone even worse.

'Connection failure.'

'Ah.'

Tonight's tactic for sleeping seems to go far worse than the others. I'm at the nursery again tomorrow, coincidentally when Edward wants me to chat to Bella, too. Which is why she's picking me up from work. So I shower in the boiling heat, I scrub at all aspects of my skin until it's sore and worriedly judge my ailments before slamming the door. Now, however, I'm facing the wall connecting my room to Carlisle's with hesitation.

It felt unnatural sleeping in Carlisle's bed without him. Or rather, laying in it. Even with the soothing scent of his cologne and his soap trying it's best to bring some familiarity to my routine. There's just something that feels oddly guilt inducing about being in his bed. My bedroom is worse however. It's cold. It's still odd, it feels weird and ever since our _visitor_ , I don't feel like trusting my mattress. Even if Alice did the honourable and proved its safety.

So I scrunch out my hair, pull on one of his T-shirts and wait patiently for the phone to ring. It doesn't. Or by the time it does, however, I'm dead to the world.

 _'Can't you just buy another cell or something? It's getting ridiculous!'_

Wearily, I open one of my eyes and listen to Edward pacing along the landing.

 _'It's the first time in ages, Carlisle, she looks half dead. I don't think she's sleeping well.'_

There's a gentle pause filled with the whining of what can only be presumed to be our landlord. I try to pull myself up, to go running outside and snatch that phone right out of Edward's hands but I'm in quite a bit of pain from today and all I want to do is lie here in my misery.

 _'Are you out of your mind?'_ Edward hisses. ' _I'm not suggesting that- she'll eat me alive!'_

Of course it's Edward who gets the working phone. Jeez, it's like he's deliberately avoiding me.

' _Well try harder, she's freaking me out!'_

It's difficult to try and gather the conversation but it's too obvious it involves me. I hear Edward grimacing, making some comment under his breath about refusing and then the door hinges squeak slightly.

 _'This is fucking perverted, you know that_?'

I close my eyes the moment I hear him in the room and try to seem asleep. Either Edward's a fool or he understands me more than I know because he keeps a distance and sighs.

' _Yeah, she's asleep_.'

Hardly.

' _I don't know, Carlisle! Try phoning_ _her_.'

This time I hear his words as clear as a bell: ' _I'm trying!_ '

' _Look, why don't you try in the morning? She's got lessons early on but she'd probably be pleased to talk to you_.'

' _Yes- I know, Carlisle_.'

' _Alright, I get it! Can I go now_?'

' _Okay-well I'll hopefully speak to you tomorrow. Night_ '

For the second night in a row, I don't sleep at all.

* * *

 **The fated Wednesday:**

Wednesday is when I'm no longer at peace. Wednesday is when I finally crash down six mountains, four skyscrapers, a few bridges and just to top it off, the Berj Khalifia. Today is not going to be a good day. The reason being that everything that _could_ go wrong, does.

 _I've looked at flights times and we might be out of luck- Especially because I've been asked to attend an important meeting. Forgive me?_

I phone Carlisle _six_ times. At least to put his guilt at ease. To appease my misery. To give reason to this never ending torture. It goes straight to answer phone. So I dress tiredly, hiding in a big coat and go to a seminar which I very nearly miss. The class is difficult on no sleep, made worse by the fact I can't quite focus on what the discussion is even though I've spent hours finally doing the required reading.

'Hey, Esme?'

I turn to my lecturer, rub my eyes and smile politely. But he doesn't smile back, he looks at me diasppointedly and shakes his head as though I'm a child.

'It would be great if you'd actually _contribute_ once in a while, you know? You're just wasting your time otherwise…'

And though he's perfectly right, I'm so mad I drive to the nursery in a strop. The kids are just as brilliant as ever but it's not the children taking advantage of me today. It's every adult surrounding them.

'I just want to leave her here just quickly while I grab some shopping?' One of the mothers says cheerily, thrusting her screaming little one into my arms.

'I understand that, Mrs Peckham but it's against regulation. No child under two is-'

'Oh you'll be _fine_! You're such the mothering type. It'll give you plenty of experience!' She says cheekily and before I can even find one of the managers to help defend my point, the mother is off and I've suddenly struck up the illegal responsibility of nanny in a professional environment for five years olds.

It gets me into serious trouble, of course.

'Do you know how _irresponsible_ it is to accept somebody's-'

'I know.' I interrupt Julie, guilty. 'I know, but I had no choice. I tried to argue-'

'It's not good enough, _Child_! Do you know what you're risking?! This whole business not just the children's saftey-' Apparently my face is more emotive than I meant for it to be because she stops yelling and curts her head at me, furious. 'Consider this an official disciplinary, Esme. You're a _professional_ \- Not some kind of mother-for-hire!'

She takes the child from my arms, leaves me with a few bits of paperwork to sign before storming out the office and leaving me to stare at the paper blankly. The worst part about her fury being that she's also right. Which is why I'm so angry still. Though at this point, it's not just anger. I'm so frustrated, so wound up and worse than that- I'm humiliated. Just as I'm hitting rock bottom, when I'm so overcome with the need to sleep that I think I'm going to faint, or vomit, or both, my phone rings. My hands don't act fast enough. They're clumsy and awkward and won't press the right buttons as I instruct.

'Hello?!' I all but yell.

' _You want to know the good news or the bad news?'_

Edward. It's Edward and though it's out of order- I'm incredibly disappointed. It's unusual for him to contact me at work (or contact me at all, to be fair) and the way he opens the converation with such a cautionary tone has my back up. Leaning against the wall for support, I throw back my shoulders and wait for the inevitable.

'The good and _only_ the good.' I say stiffly.

' _Ah_.'

I groan, fearing the next comment that is ready to tumble out his mouth.

' _You see it was a trick question. There's only bad news_.'

'Go from the least important to the most.' I beg weakly.

' _Carlisle's in hospital?_ '

' _What_?!'

'Y _ou said least serious, he is a doctor after all_'

'Edward that's not _funny_!' And the fantasies of strangling him to death cloud my mind in such a beautiful array of violence and hurt. I'm so obviously not in the mood for his bullshit!

' _Okay but seriously. You've got five missed calls. One from the hospital: A Doctor Browning wants to you to contact her?_ '

'Next.' I dismiss quickly. I hear him hesitate.

' _Carlisle tried to get ahold of you, too. He's still struggling to catch your cell...The others are from the coffee shop…_ '

It was only typical for me to miss another message from Carlisle. My heart sinks, my teeth gnawing at my lips while I fight with my other decision. ' _And_?'

' _Apparently they're desperate for you to work but I said you couldn't do it._ '

I find the nearest chair, just a small kid's one in the cloakroom and settle down into it to try and save my back. 'Thanks, Edward.'

' _I get the impression they're not pleased…_ '

I didn't want to hear that.

'That's the bad news, right?' I say hopefully, checking out one of the doors to see if I can spot the clock. It's not quite three.

' _Yes well, secondly… Emmett kind of had an accident…'_

For a moment, I wonder if I'm on some reality TV show and someone is going to burst out and call me gullible in a second's time. I wait eagerly.

 _''Hey! It was your shot- don't even try it, you pussy.'_ '

'Edward!' I complain. 'What's wrong?!'

' _We might've smashed a window?_ '

I pinch my under eyes and breathe through my nose. ' _What_ window?'

' _The living room…?'_

'You better get it sorted and sorted now, Edward! _Eurgh_ I can't believe you!' If it was acceptable to scream at him- I might just do so.

' _If you didn't like that then you're really going to hate me now…._ '

Up until now I'm sure I don't know what frustration is. I try to unclench my teeth but it makes me angrier.

'The washing machines broken.' He sighs, guiltily. I'm surprised I don't burst into tears because that's the kind of thing I want right now. I want to cry and scream and break shit.

'But I've got so much washing to do!' I whine.

' _…Sorry?_ '

'You know what- just. Just get the fucking window sorted. I'll speak to you later.'

' _Sorry_.' He apologises again, sounding particularly like he doesn't care but I hang up. I hang up and I hit my head against the wall because I can't bear to even think about handling any more responsibility when all I want to do is curl up and talk to Carlisle.

But I can't even do that. So at the very least I try to text him: _I bet you your car that by the end of this week, I would've decorated the house in Edward's blood._

 _That's a lose: lose situation for me._ He texts back and in pure blissful gratitude, I hurriedly phone him. Straight to dial tone. He sends me another text before I get a chance to. _It's still not connecting properly. If it's not fixed by six, I'm walking back. I miss sleeping at home._

I feel like telling him I miss sleeping full stop. Or further- that I miss _him_. But it reads so badly when I type it out that I can't bear to send it. It probably wouldn't go through anyway. So I read his message again, using it as the only source of sanity I have left until I continue my shift right up until the moment Bella's truck picks me up.

* * *

It's not a bad truck. Sure, it's an eyesore and it doesn't help the disastrous headache I've been trying to silence for the last hour but she drives it well and she doesn't feel the need to fill the air with noiseless chatter. But I still have a duty to be honest with her.

'Bella, I'm going to be honest… I don't really understand why I'm here or why it's me but because I promised to do it as a favour to Edward, here I am, okay?'

I feel like I should add that I don't want to be within three steps of Edward right now but I don't think that'll win me favours. She looks wildly confused for a moment, stuck in her own concerns before widening her gaze sympathetically.

'Oh, Esme! Please don't feel like I'm pushing you out? That's the very least of what I wanted.'

I can't help it- the lack of sleep in my brain leads first to confusion, then panic and lastly, I'm actually heaving.

'Pushing me out?'

'I want you to be as present as you are now.' She says with a smile. 'We want you here?'

... Err?

'On the contrary Bella. I don't really want to be involved. At all. It isn't my place.' Ew, ew, ew, someone pass me a bottle of cyanide and some kitchen bleach. I don't want these images in my brain anymore.

'How could it not be your place, Esme? You're a part of it just as much as Rose and I am!'

ROSALIE?! Oh my God-. They're like a thing?! WHAT THE?!

' _Rose_?'

'Granted she hasn't been there as long as Alice might have been but I like to think we could all come together.'

I'm trying to distance myself as much as possible from her, wrenching my ass so near the car door, I'm moments from hurtling myself out the window. I have no idea what to do. My hands are shaking, my phone curled in my grip but even at this moment I can't even think about sharing the gossip with Carlisle. Alice and Edward? Oh Jeez, it's like incest- ew!

'I don't _want_ to come together?' I tell her politely and I'm amazed I found a way to bury my disgust.

'I know how you feel, Esme. I can't help but be a little territorial, too, sometimes. But I just want you to know that I would never take this away from you-'

'It's not territorial! It's yours. All yours. Leave me out of it.' I announce loudly. This is so fucking weird- just get me out of this car right now!

She's parked up now outside a large two-story house with a cop car beside it. The idea cringes me out. Her dad a cop while Edward and the rest of my friends frolic about- oh Jesus, my stomach feels so queasy.

'Have I done something to offend you?'

'No.' I cringe. 'Of course not.'

'You do… _like_ me right?' She asks, panicked.

WHAT THE _FUCK_.

'Urm? Look, Bella. I'm not- well, it's just that- _err_.'

For a second I think she might cry, she's watching my face so patiently, hiding her hurt so well that my head pounds. I've just got to say it quickly.

'You're a very beautiful person, Bella?' This sounds so bad- Goddammit, I didn't need to be enlightened to this. I could've lived happily in ignorance. She frowns.

'I mean- you're stunning and I can see why-. Well the fact that Edward… Err. Okay, look _I'm_ not into that. I'm kind of a _one-person_ gal, if you get me?'

She tries to not look hurt but the way she flinches tells all.

'And you'll always be Alice's?'

NO? What? Eurgh? What the fuck is she on?! What happened to the whole- your flatmate likes you?! Was that a warning?!

'Bella, no offence, you guys are _great_! But I wouldn't sleep with _any_ of you. _Ever_.'

She looks at me oddly for quite a while. Until her cheeks light up, so boisterously red and so heated that I'm concerned she's going to explode.

' _Sleep_?' She repeats panicked.

The car door opens then, and with a scream, I roll backwards, leaping out of my skin as Alice waves a wine bottle into my face.

'And what time do you call this?! Girl's night was supposed to start an hour ago!'

GIRL'S WHAT?!

Bella looks to me horrified, stepping away slightly as I stare at Alice's face. _GIRL'S NIGHT?!_

'Oh don't look like that, Es! I thought you'd be excited!' And jumping up to my height, she wraps her arms tightly around my neck and squeezes.

I've got a rubber penis in my bag for no reason? I have nearly gotten myself arrested, taking a fucking _penis_ to a _nursery_ with me- for a fucking joke?! Suddenly my chest feels like it's incapable of breathing.

The moment I see Edward I'm going to wrap my hands around that Son-of-a-bitch's-neck and kill him! This is the final fucking straw. Rose climbs down the steps just then, glass of wine in her hand as she all but stomps for my attention.

'Will you get back in here? Its cold!' She calls, lifting her glass with a cheer. I take one look at Alice, snatch the bottle out of her hand and crack open the top before taking a greedy gulp.

'That's my gurl!'

'Someone get Edward on the phone- _now_!' I demand, grabbing Bella by the arm and pulling her away from the girl's confused stares.

'Whatever I said in the car-' I begin hastily.

'What _did_ you say in the car?' She asks, confused.

'Just-just-' I scrub at my forehead and sing several curses under my breath. 'It didn't happen.'

'Oookay?' She replies, nervously.

Thankfully, the girls are in a fantastic mood this afternoon and rather than ridicule my demands, Alice tries to get a hold of Edward as I dial and redial Carlisle's mobile, ignoring that same dial tone and trying again.

'Esme, what's going on?' Alice asks, confused. She hands me a glass of wine which I take gratefully and sits in the kitchen chair as I continue to pace across the tiled floor, one end to the other, pressing buttons.

She's tried Edward three times, calling our house phone multiple times and Emmett's but once Bella attempts to call him- I realise he's deliberately not answering. My hands are wrenched in my hair, tugging my fringe back as I take two steps left and then change. Always repeating. I haven't even had chance to admire Bella's house. It's homely and warm and I like the odd presentation of the kitchen because it feels unconventionally homely.

'Why are we phoning Edward?' Rose complains, clearly irritated by my interruption. Judging by the kitchen table, they had some sort of makeover planned. Which is not what I'm in the mood for. I can't even begin to understand how angry I am- I'm so infuriated by this Kid's utter bullshit.

I've drained my second glass and on the 26th time of the auto message telling me I can't be connected, I hysterically scream my furies into the shitty phone, abandoning all good posture and fuming until my throat hurts.

'ONE OF YOU TWISTED BASTARDS BETTER ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE YOU IGNORANT COCKSUCKERS!' I scream, caving to my knees on the floor and in a rage slamming the bottom of the phone against the tiles.

'Es?' Alice hums gently, her hands gently touching my arms in a sign of comfort. But I let my head hit the tiles, regardless of the angle, and welcome the further headache it brings while I internally scream as much as possible.

'What's going on?' Questions a stern voice.

And leaping from the floor I'm stunned to see who I presume to be Officer Swan watching me in confusion. There's something about his face which makes him seem angrier than he actually is, perhaps it is his expression, but I cringe away, pulling myself up to my feet like a child having a tantrum.

'Sorry, sir.'

'What's with the screaming?' He asks us but he looks more to Bella at this moment who is looking as bewildered as he is.

'It's nothing, Mr. Swan.' Alice reassures, smiling extra widely as she rubs my arm. 'Just Esme's had a tough day at work, that's all.'

Despite my humiliation, which frankly is enough to make me suffer eternally, I hold out my hand to him shyly.

'Esme Platt…' I murmur, hiding beneath my hair, slightly. He nods, blankly.

'You live with Doctor Cullen, right? You and Edward?'

'Yes, sir.' I say softly, trying to hold myself up straight.

'Which is who you're trying to get a hold of?' He assumes, nodding to the withered pieces in my hand. Bella smiles at him then, proudly in a way I would probably look up to my dad. The thought stings. Made worse by the fact he won't return her smile just yet.

'He's in Alaska.' I explain, shyly. 'It's been a struggle to get in contact with him since.'

He nods thoughtfully. 'Tried contacting the hotel?'

'We can't get through to them either.' Despite the fact that I'm not crying, I still have to sniffle a bit to gather my breath. He frowns, looking a lot like his daughter as he does so, and heads into the living room. Bella encourages me to follow as he roots around a few shelves and such, until pulling out a very old looking brick and turning it on.

I can't imagine the age of it, in fact it's probably young but it just looks so strange against the semi-modern TV and the watch on his wrist. Without even needing to ask, Alice is already filling up my glass again and though I should be exceptionally wound up- I can appreciate she's being exactly what I need at the moment.

So I take it like oxygen, drowning my responsibility until the anger and the frustration doesn't hurt as much anymore. Unfortunately, today is one of the days that I haven't eaten and the wine speedily hits my head, seeming to manipulate all these weird emotions into something even worse.

'Did you want to leave a message at the hotel reception or phone him first?'

'The reception please?' I ask, shakily, disbelieving the trust in the technology at his hand.

He fiddles with it for a moment before handing it to me. I hold it to my ear. It's ringing. Actually _ringing_ in the correct tone and the correct sound and-.

' _Hello, Mckinely Chalet resort. Miranda speaking, how may I help you today_?'

For a moment, I'm so excited in forcing the words out that nothing happens, I just stutter.

' _Hello_?' She repeats.

'Yes! Yes sorry- hello. I was just phoning to see if a message could be left for one of your guests?'

' _Certainly. Room number_?'

'Four-oh-one.' I tell her breathlessly. Alice is watching me from across the coffee table, fingering my third empty glass as she desperately tries to understand what's going. The other two are fussing about my head, shaking my arm to get my attention but I throw them off. Mr. Swan has returned to his football game in another room. 'The name's Carlisle Cullen.'

' _Certainly. And what would be the message_?'

I look at the girls. I look at them, at Alice's dreaded curiosity and my bravery falters.

'Urm. Could you, urm, could you just tell him… tell him-' _Tell him what?_ 'Tell him _not_ to get a plane. Tell him its fine.'

' _If I could have the exact wording, please Miss_?'

'Ah yes, of course. I'm sorry. Just tell him not to book a flight tonight- I'll see him when he's home.'

'And your name?' She asks politely.

'Esme Cu-. _Platt_. Esme Platt.'

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? But the girls haven't noticed and because they haven't noticed, I take a moment to thank my lucky stars for life.

 _'I'll send it up to him immediately then, Miss_.'

'Thanks for your help!' and the phone clicks shut.

Today's devastation seems to dissolve around my limbs and though Alice is begging to be let in on what's happening, she also doesn't complain when I tell her to hush. Sighing heavily, I take another sip of my new glass. It's like a wave falling over my neck and shoulder, washing away today's stresses and replacing it with relief instead. Without hesitation, I punch in his number. It rings, the horrible ringing so ominous and so thick that it whines about my head forever.

And finally:

' _Carlisle_?!'

' _Esme_?!' The call of his tone, the precious sound of my name on his tongue is all that I can think about and in utter frustration, fresh tears fall to my face. They're noisy, falling in heavy droplets from my eyelashes and coating my cheeks in fresh moisture so that I have to hide behind my hands. ' _Oh it's so good to hear your voice again!_ '

But I inhale staggered like and wipe the droplets off my grin, snivelling. I can't see Alice at the moment, I can't hear her and for now, I just assume she's let me be for once.

' _Hon? Are you okay_?'

'I'm drunk.' I tell him exhaustively, sighing in relief. 'I'm _so_ drunk- I've had the worst day.'

Mistakenly, I expect him to be a little concerned, wound up by such a quick return to the dreaded waters, but he chuckles softly, the sounds comforting to my overreaction.

' _I've been trying to call you so many times. Even when I get hold of Edward it doesn't last seven minutes before cutting out. But tell me what's up? What's happened_?'

'Just everything- absolutely _everything_. Then this!'

' _What's this_?' He asks curiously, and though there's noise in the background, I can imagine him against an old battered sofa just like me.

'The reason I'm drinking Carlisle. You both _mislead_ me!' Again! Though for someone who's meant to be mad, I couldn't be more joyful. Even with the face of tears.

' _Oh Babe. I'm sorry- we just wanted to make sure you had a bit of time to enjoy yourself? Have a bit of a girl's night?_ '

Time to enjoy myself could have happily been a bubble bath and a book. But I'm so relieved to hear his voice, to feel his presence- I couldn't give a flying fuck about Edward. Or being lied to again. Or mislead- at least it was for good intentions this time.

'You wouldn't believe the absolute stress you've put me under all down to Edward's fantastical lie! And he won't answer his phone!'

' _Have you tried-?'_

'We've been calling him and Emmett for the past hour- he's gone into hiding.' I inform him, giggling slightly at the ridiculousness of it all.

' _I can't blame him_.' Carlisle chuckles. ' _I think I would, too_.'

'Do you even know what I've carried in my bag all day?! I took it to work, _Cullen_!'

The sound of his laughter is so refreshing that I completely misshear Alice wondering off in order to satiate her curiosity.

'But where are you? Are you having a good evening?'

' _Ugh, I'm at a public debate over the expenses of a secondary unit. People are so angry here, I've been swung for twice_.'

'You haven't been hurt?'

' _No- no. Of course not. They've got some sort of party thing later, though. I have to make a speech_.'

'Jeez, you're moving up in the world.' I say and even in my heavy slurring, I can feel the pride melt into my voice. The only thing that would make it better is to see his charming smile. To have him modestly try to deny it all the while smirking in his brilliant manner.

' _I don't want to go. I'm dreading it._ '

Stay on the phone with me instead? I nearly ask.

'You could always stay home and watch-'

' _Ahh, yes._ _I'm glad you've brought that up, Miss Platt because-'_

Eurgh, my name isn't the only thing I want his tongue teasing over at the moment.

'FUCK ME, ESME! What the heck did you bring _this_ for?'

SHIT. I turn, behind me to see the three of them glaring at the contents of the bag. Alice is looking particularly tickled, Rose is laughing so loudly she's turned red and Bella is horrified once more. I pull a thumb across my neck to shut Alice up but she starts howling with laughter, both her and Blondie, waving the thing about-

Oh Jesus.

'Err, Carlisle? I might have to go-.' I've literally only just got a hold of him! This isn't fair- eurgh!

' _Really? Are you okay_?'

'Err, yeah. Edward's been rumbled.'

' _Edwar-oh. Oh. Okay. Well… have a good night, okay? Look after yourself_.'

'I'll talk to you soon, I'm so sorry.'

' _Not to worry. I miss–er. I'll speak to you later, if you'd like? Might not be till late?_ '

'I'll be waiting. Good luck, Carlisle.'

The beep isn't as threatening as it was when I hadn't spoken to him for years and now that I _have_ spoken with him- now that I've heard his voice and I've felt his warmth, I can turn to Alice. And I don't just turn to her, I lunge for her.

'Jeeez Esme, you don't have to resign yourself so quickly- we'll find you someone!'

'Alice, put it _down_!' And thanks the wine, I am in a great mood, laughing loudly as I attempt to snatch it off her.

'You've gotten _that_ desperate, you take it to class? What kind of Kinky bitch are you?'

'Alice! If you don't put it back I won't tell why I have it!'

This catches her interest and in disgust, she drops it into the bag and shakes me head at me. 'Considering I thought you were going to scream at them what with you pacing everywhere, I'm bitterly disappointed by your lack of anger.'

I turn to Bella who is still probably the most confused out of all of them. So I'm going to get my own back. I will seek revenge in the best way.

'Edward wanted a bit of a lad's night.' I say to Bella and even though everyone clearly knew this, she watches me in confusion. 'And they were sure I'd refuse to grant them the house.' This sounds so much better than claiming I didn't want to see them 'That he came up with this desperate plan which involved giving you the talk so that I'd be busy.'

'The _Talk_?!' She repeats.

Thanks to the bubbles in my tired brain, I grab the bottom end of the dildo and deliberately shake it so that it wobbles. If possible- she looks even fainter than before.

'With a deliberate emphasis on contraception.'

REVENGE IS SWEET MUTHAFUCKER.

'Er? And why wouldn't _I_ be the expert?' Alice complains, folding her arms on her hips, her newly painted nails tapping along her jeans.

'Well, you're nowhere near as experienced as-'

'Hey, Bells?'

And throwing my arm into the bag, I zip it up and join Rosalie in her uncontainable laughter at Bella's expense.

* * *

The wine is both a great and a horrible choice. I'm _actually_ enjoying myself, relaxing and having a bit of a blissful giggle without needing it directed to bedroom habits. Mainly because the bedroom habits it's directed to are the impersonal ones. And better yet, Bella is a good sport, taking everything in a far better humour than I would and – much to my surprise- actually _learning_.

Alice is doing her make up in the mirror, her hair perfect and spikey while I loosley curl Bella's so that it slips down her back gently. Rosalie is fussing with her make up- made worse by the fact we keep making her giggle, brushing a false pink right over Bella's cheeks that are already tainted with a natural blush.

'You know you've made it when you can get a condom on with your mouth.' Rose giggles.

It's nicer to be in Bella's room. Less nice in the sense that Alice is demanding for us to go out for a dance but still enjoyable in that after a small glass, Bella is hilariously giggly. The fact she's laughing at everything is putting me and Alice in stitches.

'With your _mouth_?'

'Rose is just showing off, Bella.' I reassure her, rolling my eyes at Rose but she cheers even louder and points to her rear-end.

'You're right. You use your ass.' Blondie laughs, opening one of the packets in question and blowing it up.

I shake my head at Bella on the sly and narrowly avoid Rosalie batting the latex in my direction.

'If you get lube in my hair, Rose, I'll kill you!' Alice curses.

'Which leads us to rule number one, Bella.' I warn, patiently, glass raised in the air with a knowing grin on my face. ' _Never_ let them ejaculate in your hair.'

After potentially one of the worst days I've had to cope with, I laugh just as effortlessly as I would if I was warning Carlisle. But rather than make me miserable, the thought warms me up from the inside out and though I'm missing him immensely, it puts me in such a deviously imaginative mood that I can't help but think of such a suggestion across the phone line.

For the first time in four days, I am feeling shamelessly happy. This meaning that it's only with a slight air of reluctance, because I really am quite drunk at the moment, that I join them in getting ready, straightening out my hair and pulling myself into Rosalie's clothes though it hurts my waistline and further my sense of pride.

'See this is what you needed!' Alice reassures me, holding onto my arm as she drags us out to the taxi on Bella's porch. The fact her dad is watching us leave is making me feel that little bit safer. Like I'm just a teenager again without all these horrible responsibilities and brain ache.

'The giggling is fantastic, as is the wine. I could've done without this bit.' I tell her honestly but because I'm in a good mood I can give in to their begging and pleading and follow them to the nearest club without complaint. It's a nice club. Fancy looking with a purple and black colour scheme and smoke so thick you can't look through it sober. The music's good, too.

'Got condoms?'

'Alice, for the last time- I don't _want_ sex!' And because this comes out in a giggle – due to it being an absolute lie- she throws her attention into pulling me about.

'At the very least- you can get us a drink.' And fondling with my bra straps to make my boobs look bigger, she pushes me towards the bar.

'Alice!' I hiss.

'You're the only one whose single- it has to be you.' I'm too drunk to deliberate on this comment so I shake my head at her. But slide up to the guy on my left, with the dark hair and dark stubble and lean over the bar slightly.

'Say, stranger, don't suppose you'll be happy enough to buy my lovelies and I, a _catch-free_ drink?' This bit needs emphasis because I don't want to suggest anything remotely gross.

He turns towards me, frown cast low as he take in the suggestion of my tits- and even in such a drunken stage as this I regret it. I regret it and I pull up my posture, readjusting my jacket to cover myself. Behind, I can hear drunken booing from my friends. He looks so familiar, his eyes are so dark that it seems to wipe away the sudden amusement from my face. I don't know where I know him. I can't think where I've seen him but it's such a familiar face.

'How about a show first?' He grins, eyeing up my chest as he stands up, far taller than I would've anticipated and slightly large around the mouth too.

'Never mind.' I say hastily and stepping back, listening to the inner scream of my instincts, I go to turn away from him and retreat back to my friends. Alice is pouting sadly for me, already seeing what I can't, the girlfriend returning to his side.

Suddenly- a sharp slap pushes into my backside, and yelping- I catch a brief look of his expression before I shove him. I see it perfectly, in the photo frame on the desk in the coffee shop office. My boss with an arm around him. The same, slick smile. The eyes.

I don't know why I do it, panic I assume. I use my forearm to shove him back so that he stumbles into his partner and then grab Alice by the hand to drag her out of this stupid fucking club.

'OI! When I call you- you should have the decency to turn around.'

I jump, not because of the tone of voice or the scream of it haunting my horrors - but the way her shoe comes colliding with the back of my head. I cringe from it and continue to try and drag the girls out of there.

Just my fucking luck.

'Hey! Try that again and I'll see you in hospital.'

'Rose.' I beg, tugging on her arm, she shakes me off, Bella hidden nervously behind me and grabbing Alice for comfort. It's a bad idea. Alice looks as furious as Blondie and neither are listening to me.

'Bitch, do I have to kick you out of _another_ place?!'

'Alice! You're drunk. Let's go-please just leave it- let's go.'

'Fucking hell Esme, fallen down from your pedestal huh?' Tilly demands, raising a hand to her drunk posse 'What is it this time? He's fucked and dumped you or you're too much of a whore to be contained-'

'Say-'

'Alice!' And shoving them ahead of me. I push them out of the club before security are given the chance. Bella is looking alarmed, watching my expression in hopes she'll find some courage there but it's lost.

'Running so soon?'

'No chance, Tilly.' I reply quickly, dragging Rosalie away for the third time, and begging her to shut the fuck up.

'You think you're so high and mighty and you can't even face up to _me_!' She yells from behind. Rose thrashes against my shoulder but I hold her back and tell Bella to get Jasper on the phone. The only one I know who'll be sober.

'That's it, Esme. Depend on your guard dogs!'

I cringe and continue to try and walk, my head held high. Or as high as I can muster it right now which is not at all. It's not Tilly I'm afraid of. Not for a second. It's the gang of people who have followed her, hungry to watch a fight commence.

'Go home, Tilly!'

' _Me_ go home? How about I go to yours? Chances are I'll get further than you have.'

For just a second, the thought makes me green with jealousy, despite the fact it's false and the suggestion catches my attention so wholly that I almost forget where my morals lie. Thankfully, my friends manage to keep them in check. Alice continues to yell at her. I know why she's doing it. She's angry. She's defensive and she's trying to look out for me. But it only has a way of forcing a shudder into my very bones.

'Glad to see your boyfriend's prides himself on having a STI for a _girlfriend_!' Alice cheers, clapping Rosalie by the hand as Bella positively suffers from a mental breakdown on the phone.

I beg myself not to do it- to keep walking. To get away from there. But someone pushes into me and stumbling into I wall, I'm forced to stop.

I was so close to them. All three of the girls. They were here. They were literally by my side and all the sudden, I'm pushed against the wall, surrounded by a horseshoe of chanting students, pushing Tilly into me and making the ring even smaller.

She looks so young. So childlike with her knotted hair long and her wide eyelashes. For a moment, I briefly regret that our friendship turned so sour so quickly. She was in awe of me all the time I was teaching her what the fuck a cappuccino was. I couldn't imagine anyone hating me more than her at this moment.

'He _pities_ you Esme!'

Stop it. I beg myself. Don't do it, please don't do it.

'I would, too considering the idiocy I have to work with.' I say it so calmly, so carefully that I can't believe it's been said. Rose is screaming at someone. I can't see them, I can't see anyone but Tilly and that face, the devilish face so calculating.

'You want to say that again?!'

'Do I need to? I ask, tensing my stomach to stop the shakes taking over my voice.

'Act all you want. But at the end of the day-' She comes closer towards me, heels against the gravel as she circles about by my face. 'You're the _last_ thing he's going to want to touch after someone else has had their way with you.'

I know why she does it- I know she forcing that horrible suggestion into my head as a taunt- I know it's deliberate- but I can't help myself. When she nears me, her face so close to mine that her tan is spreading, I use my shoulder to her push away, quickening my step to escape through the gap of people. Like a string of elastic, they throw me right into her and the last thing I feel is the agonising slam of glass being smashed against my head.


	34. Reasons why it means more than anything

_**Again, thank you for your patience and loyalty. I feel like I need to make it clear that this chapter has been long in the making. I've had this chapter planned about as long as I had the idea of the story and I hope it plays off just as well. I'm super grateful for your amazing comments and would be just as grateful if you wanted to leave them again.**_

 _ **Thank you. And do not fret- all will be explained. Much appreciation.**_

* * *

 **Thursday:**

It's important to say that it's not Edward's fault that he's obsessing over every act I choose to busy myself with from this moment forth. He's not impressed that I declined an overnight stay at _Esme's resort (meaning the hospital)_. I shouldn't blame him too much for that but I want to.

Contrary to earlier impressions, I'm glad to know that I prove myself wrong to my assumptions of his bad mood. No one has told him anything when they drove to our rescue last night. The simple argument that tumbled around was the easy: _'I didn't see?_ ' But with the girls favoured secrecy comes my horror.

It means that Officer Swan comes to our front door early this morning, before dawn, with Edward in an _explosive_ mood. He's hovering over the phone, mentioning Carlisle's name every two minutes because he's desperate for me to confess all and secure his innocence. He's already phoned twice. Not for long. They were short quick rings, simply testing out whether we were available or not. In this case it was not.

An easy lie is better than a hard truth in this instance.

So Officer Swan stands stoically in our front room, very much in work mode despite the dark rings under his eyes and the darkness outside. Much to her disgrace, Edward is quick in ushering Alice out. He weakly promises to phone later though as far as I'm aware this is another quick lie to give me peace at mind. Jasper wishes me luck as he squeezes past Charlie, and I hug Alice on her way out, tightly, encasing her into my arms.

'I love you.' She whispers. 'Please don't be angry at me?'

But I just squeeze her hand and watch her leave. The moment they're gone, half my stress does as well and I can give in to the dire look of exhaustion that's been burdening my face for an evening.

'So?' Charlie begins, watching Edward wearily. I don't doubt that it's Bella's love for the guy that has encouraged this visit. But now I've mentioned Bella I think about the reason Charlie's here in the first place and I'm overcome with so much embarrassment that I back away from the two men, tighten my arms around myself and hold in the remnants of my calm.

'Tea?' I offer pathetically, already retreating towards the kitchen. Edward goes to stop me and misses, groaning out loudly when he reads my cause for action.

'Whatever will make you feel better.' Charlie says quickly and he takes a place in Carlisle's revision seat, laying out a piece of paper on the table and smoothing it flat.

'Sit down, Es.' Edward tells me, gently.

'I'm perfectly capable-'

'Esme.' He looks carefully to our guest before shoving those green eyes down my soul. 'The quicker it's done-'

'Please, Edward. I just want to-'

'Sit _down_.' He insists, and pulling out a chair he leaves me quite alone with a man who quite a few hours ago, I was looking to as my life's saviour. Now he just seems so _adult_. Charlie offers a tight smile and looks me dead in the eye.

'It won't take long.' He comforts. I feel like it's a forced comment and I'm very aware that even though Edward has suggested the façade of privacy, he's very much got his attention on us.

'Have the others-?'

Officer Swan cuts me off with a nod. A nod which leaves my chest feeling tight.

'Where do I have to start?'

It has to be said again that Edward's explosive mood is somewhat warranted. We seem to skim over the events of the evening with Edward appearing and reappearing from the hidden confines of the kitchen. He keeps testing out my mood- raising a question at every opportunity and receiving the sharp _'I'm just tired!_ '

Finally however, we come full circle.

'And you know who it was?' Charlie asks. He's spent the last forty minutes scribbling away, forcing the reluctant words from my throat with ease and a gentleness that I hadn't expected. But this question catches me. This is the one I've been avoiding. Especially with the Kid's eyes on my back.

'I-er-?'

Charlie is patient, waiting for me to find the bravery. Edward however, is not.

'You _know_ who it was?!'

'Son.' Charlie warns, using something as simple as a look to tell him to distance himself from the table.

It's a weird thing to happen and simply ends up making Edward look more of a villain than is the case. He's not used to the open testing of authority so instead of using his tone to convey his distress, he uses his face. The cold look he gives me is so betrayed that for a moment I'm sure he's more pissed off at me than the bottle thrower.

'Yes but -' To be completely honest I'm so unsure with what I want that I just leave this comment to hang there while Charlie waits. And he does wait. 'It's just a co-worker.' I mumble eventually.

 _'Tilly_?!' Edward roars, I jump from the volume and try my best to swallow my guilt. He'd been doing so well at pretty much keeping his cool until this moment. _'Tilly_ did this?!'

'Mr. Masen, don't make me remind to keep your tone in check!'

The blush on the Kid's face hides beneath the devastation of his anger. I almost fear he's going to bugger up his chances with Bella by telling her father to 'Go Fuck himself'.

'But _Tilly_?!' He repeats, carefully now, stepping closer to the table. A cold look is cast to him and out of duty he steps back. I don't say anything.

'Aw fuck this Es. I'm phoning Carlisle!'

'You can't!' I squeak at him. 'Please, Edward! You know how angry he'll be?'

Jesus, since when did I beg Edward? Quite obviously since I didn't want to seem like a weak ass feeble woman clinging onto the attention of Zeus. That was the look I reserved for _private_.

'It's _exactly_ why I'm phoning!' He has his cell in his grip, squeezing it tightly, thumb pressing into the screen, unaware of the possible damage he's causing.

'No one is phoning _anybody_.' Charlie gruffs. Edward flinches again, deliberating between the two of us before really giving in to his temper and throwing as much polite passion as he can into my face.

'Don't make me lie to him, Esme! I won't do it!'

'Edward, please. Look I'm fine. I'm okay-'

'You call this _fine_?!' He yells, angling his palm towards my head.

'Volume, Mr. Masen!'

'Look at the state of you, Esme!'

This line hasn't come out in the way it was intended. Charlie's horror is enough to prove that. But I let my fingers comb the roots of my hair, close to where the bottle hit without touching the mark that stains it. I look to my scrapped palms and worry about how deathly I look with my drowsy eyes and my pale skin. In all- I'm more like the horror of my painting than Carlisle is. Edward shakes his head, forcing himself to his feet to move away before he really does give off the wrong impression.

'Last name?' Charlie probes hopefully.

I don't reply.

'Esme!' Edward chides.

'Look, I don't remember, _okay_?! I don't remember and I can't remember and it would help if you would stop yelling!'

Edward crumbles slightly but clearly not enough. He hides his hand in his hair, wrenching the locks from his scalp as he holds in his tantrum. Give it three minutes and he'll be stamping his feet.

'That's it. I don't remember anymore.'

Charlie looks disappointed but ultimately respects my decision, taking a deep breath and signing the bottom of his paper. I sign it too, with a sloppy, unrestrained signature which is enough to appease him.

'You can always return if you remember it later.' He murmurs, standing away from his seat and sizing up Edward. Edward's staring at me, wound up and positively burning with the desire to drown himself. It's a look I can empathise with.

'Thank you, Sir.'

'Look after yourself, Esme. Get some rest.' I nod gently, letting my gaze fall to the floor to avoid further embarrassment.

'Goodnight, Charlie.' Or rather good morning.

Edward tries to thank him a few million times but they are much refuted and just to help him out a bit- I wait till Charlie is climbing into his car to prove I trust Edward enough to lean into him. He's tense, rigid with the need to explode into a song of curses. The car leaves.

'Phone him.' Is the first sentence to fall out of his mouth. I should've expected it really.

'And if I refuse?'

'You know what, Esme? It would be really fucking helpful if you guys respected the fact that you're humans!' He surprises me my slamming the door shut and bolting the lock as I've taken to do the last few days. 'Stop trying to create this infallible image!'

' _Me_?'

He stops himself, teeth biting into his lip as he shakes his head at me. 'Just- just grow up!'

'You're going to lecture me after all this shite with Bella?!' I ask, verging on the same sensation of relief that a good tantrum satisfies. 'For fuck sake, Edward! The window isn't even broken!'

It's a tiny insignificant detail which shouldn't matter much to me. But it does. It's another stupid act that helped me run right into the girl's arms and start a vivacious man-hate-girl-drink club.

'Just _phone_ him!'

'Why?!'

As I go to stand away from him, I realise that my body is shaking, my hands trembling so violently and my head so painful. My urge is to lunge for his throat.

'Are you really that stupid?! Because you've been hurt!' He yells.

I throw the first thing my hands find which is some stupid art book for College. He doesn't flinch from it, just lets it loudly hit him. I'm wondering if I need to make it clear that he's now also been hurt and needs to go running to the landlord for a bandage.

Now is not the time.

'This is exactly why I'm not saying anything! I don't want you fighting my battles for me!'

'For fuck sake, when will you get it through your head?! We're not fighting them _for_ you, Esme. We're fighting them _with_ you!'

I've started shivering. I'm not entirely sure why, I'm probably cold. But Edward sees that and with his fierce scowl dampening, he grabs a blanket from the sofa and wraps it around my shoulders.

'This is exactly why we wanted you to spend time with Alice.' He tells me. I unlock my jaw, shaking my head slowly in disbelief. 'She speaks girl sense.'

'Look Edward, it would be fantastic if you'd stop treating girls like foreign creatures.'

'We don't mean to.' He mutters, pointing to a seat. Reluctantly, I find myself sitting and watching his response. He looks even more tired now. Though I'm pleased he's made a point of counting himself in the comment. _'I_ don't mean to.'

'Whatever.' I murmur.

'Look, we need to have a discussion and we need to have it fast because whatever's going on between you guys is fucking up this whole-'

'Urgh! I don't need this from _you_!' What next? A meeting with Emmett? A seminar with Jasper? Should I write to Cullen's father and get his approval, too?

'Esme- just listen to me! We're not getting anywhere if you keep running away.'

So I reseat myself, tying the blanket even tighter around my shoulders. He empties his cell on the table by his side so that the backing falls with scatters. I frown at it.

'Alright first-.' He begins but I cut him off with a sharp tongue and a fierce glare that surprises him.

'First if you lie to me one more time I'll be out of this house quicker than you can question what's happened.'

He makes a face but nods. 'Noted.'

'And if you make decisions on what's best for me without consultation- I'm out. I won't even turn back, Edward and you know it.'

'Fine.' He agrees, reluctantly. 'Fine, but you have to let us help.'

I raise an eyebrow, daring him to fuck up. 'I don't _have_ to do anything.'

'Alright: you don't. But life would be so much _easier_ if you would stop self-sacrificing.'

'That's not-.' I try to argue but he cuts me off.

'Sorry- I missed the part where we chatted about Tilly?'

And as much as I hate it, I know he's right. I rub my head again in hopes it'll slow him down but it only makes him lower his voice.

'That's not a bad thing…' I say quietly.

'Not a bad thing? You're not _dealing_ with anything. Who knows, you might lose your head and jump off a bridge all because you just bottle it all up. We don't want to let you suffer alone. Least of all Carlisle.'

The moment I groan, he rolls his eyes.

'I don't want to talk about this.' I tell him.

'Which is exactly why I have to say it.'

'I don't get involved with Bella! I don't want to be involved, that's your life and it would be nice if- for once- _someone_ would just be on my side.'

'If you would just listen than you'd hear how on your side I really am-' He answers quickly. I try to argue this but he interrupts me. 'Don't let him fuck this up, okay?'

 _'What_?' Alright, fine. I didn't expect him to say that.

'Just don't go rushing into things without _thinking_. You hardly know him, Esme. You have no idea-'

My mouth has fallen open and more because I'm so bitterly hurt by the accusation rather than the fact I'm angry about the manner he's so arrogantly assumed it.

'You _think_ I don't know him?' I question, quietly.

'You're so completely wound up in- _no offence_ \- trying to get him to like you-'

'You don't think I _know_ him?!' I repeat, more aghast this time. He cuts himself off, frowning at me, the same old aged expression on his face as though he's reading my mind. He's just proven that he's a fool to misinterpretation.

'Esme, I've known the man all my life even after your four years-.'

'I can tell you to the _day_ how long I have known him.' Fucking hour more like. 'I can repeat to you _every_ bit of information he has ever given me, I could tell you every given moral he has before he says it himself-.'

'You're priding yourself on _false_ information-' He tries to argue.

'I'm priding myself on his presentation. You're putting this on me! It's _my fault_ that he's really comforting. It's _my fault_ that he's so friendly. It's _my fault_ that I don't know him enough-'

'Point being?' He interrupts.

'Point being when is it going to stop being anyone's _fault_. You claim to know him so badly and _you a_ re clutching on to loose straws.'

'Don't make this into a competition.' He says smartly, suddenly uncomfortable in the quick loss of the upper hand. I don't even think there is such a thing as upper hand at the moment. I'm so embarrassed I think I might just burst into flames.

'I'm not doing that Edward- _you_ are! Stop trying to _define_ him so badly! Just let him be _him_.'

'But-'

'You act like I've just waltzed in here and stolen your buddy!' I say exasperated. He makes a face, tempted almost to smile but hiding it again under his front of offended confusion. 'And you're _still_ doing it.' I groan. He's quiet, questioning me with less than a stare, dark green eyes pouring into mine. So I give in.

Every minute of the past few days have been leading up this point, and though I'm mad at myself for letting it out at Edward and not the man who deserves it- I'm also unashamedly grateful it _is_ Edward I'm talking to. I inhale deeply as though I might never get such a breath like it and finally, let the natural soft sound of my words comfort him.

'How long has he liked me, Edward?'

'I'm not answering that and you know it.'

'A year maybe?' I guess, politely. ' _Two_?'

'Es,' He says frowning. 'As we've newly established, there's things which he should be telling you. _This_ is one of those things.'

'That's my point. You _don't_ know and I don't blame you for that. But it means you've got to stop taking such a narrow minded view on things.'

I've turned soft now, softer than expected not just as if he were my little brother but as if he were even closer than that and I was offering my many lessons on life to him. Despite his grievances, he seems to be doing better than expected at listening.

Here goes...

'Did you know I asked him out in our first year?' I've hidden my face now, glaring rather at my hands because I can't bear to hear the realisation in his voice.

 _'What_?' He looks hard at me, like I've just let something horrible fly out my mouth and he's been dealt with the disaster of clearing it up. It says all that it needs to.

'Exactly. He turned me down, which was _fine_. It was polite and all very normal and like normal human beings, we moved on.'

He has his jaw open and I can just read how innately furious he is at himself for reasons that don't even matter.

'You asked him out?! Like _properly_?!'

The only word that comes to mind is disgust. He looks disgusted.

'I asked for a date and he declined.' I say with a shrug. 'These aren't unreasonable feelings for me Edward. Sure they're a little overpowering sometimes and might look naïve but they're not… unwarranted.'

For the life of me, I don't think he ever looks at me quite the same after this point. But for once, we seemed to reach a satisfied common ground and I finally get six hours of restless and intermittent sleep.

* * *

It doesn't matter that my head is sore because it's Thursday afternoon. I have the day off- because I refuse to attend my classes for today- and I can reward myself in that I have spent four days away from Carlisle without even slightly regretting my choice. I may have a headache that's enough to silence me and I may miss him like crazy but I've achieved four days.

That means something, right?

Apparently not. The only thing it means is that I'm more desperate for his attention than I might have been for the beginning of the week. And with Alice forbidding me on one hand and Edward trying to enforce some question of guidance on the other, I find I'm in the middle of a disgustingly perfect situation.

I speak to Alice a little on the phone after midday and although she drops my bag round from yesterday, she doesn't stay longer than half-an-hour. The others have sent me texts asking how I am, Emmett sent a chain email and Edward has wound himself into such confused temper that he's decided that it's best to rectify the impression he might have given the Swans. For once, I can agree.

He leaves me one small note on the top of the piano before heading to lessons: _Tell him_.

And I wonder if this is for my head or my-. Oh God that sounds _so lame_ , doesn't it?

Instead, I fuss around reading in Carlisle's room for a long time, dressed in his blue button down, warm in his clothes and comfortable in Edward's absence. I read long into the evening, till my eyes are heavy but no matter how heavy my eyes are- my mind is crazy busy. I can't be sure if it's the antibiotics in my system, or just the heart aching painful act of missing him now that I've found some element of peace but every time I settle into a comfortable seating, I end up overcome with Carlisle on my mind. Of him shirtless, leering over me protectively, his hand weak my waist. Or I think of him teasing me, laid under his posture as he relishes my every breath. Or his tongue, hot and quick and shy, melting against mine as-

Without as much as a realisation my hand kneads the skin under my breast, touching the heartbeat, feeling his-.

The phone rings. The home phone this time and it very dramatically pulls me out of my daydream. Edward isn't home. So it might be him phoning? It could be anyone phoning. It could be Charlie. Or the boys. Or- _work_. The only thing that pulls my feet from his bed is the stress of the phone's constant ringing stinging my head. So I pick it up, hesitantly.

'Esme, speaking.' I murmur thickly into the receiver.

 _'Miss Platt_.' And my heart sinks into my stomach. _'I caved and brought a spare phone. Please don't judge me?'_

'Never.' I promise weakly, finding enough energy to let out a breathless sigh or two which ultimately turns into several giggles. And then few more.

 _'It isn't a bad time is it?_ ' Carlisle asks attentively and he's shy and worried but also severely intrigued. Surprised by this comment I laugh more, letting my nervous giggles evolve into playful chuckles. _'What? What is it I've interrupted_?'

'Nothing.' I whisper, still highly amused by such a simple interruption for a Thursday evening.

' _Are you sure? I can let you get back to it?_ '

At this, I laugh even more, soaking in his words in full appreciation of his ignorance. 'No, no. I'm here. I'm yours.'

 _'Mine_?' He repeats playfully and I almost wonder if this is a line I should not have so rashly crossed. _'Anyway, are you okay? How was your evening yesterday?_ '

'Busy.' I say dismissively. 'I… I had a _bit_ of an accident, too. But I'm fine?' I'm hoping this counts as honesty.

' _What? Are you okay?_ '

'Completely. Small cut but perfectly fine. Can't walk two feet without getting into trouble, can I?'

 _'I can get on the next flight_?' Someone's far too eager. I'm kinda loving it.

'You don't need to.' I insist. 'Please don't worry?'

He's reluctant to give in so easily but eventually I hear him breathe a few chuckles into the receiver. ' _Well as long as it's nothing serious? What on Earth are we going to do with you, ey_?'

'I know.' I sigh and even though this is still a half lie, I feel like it's enough to grant me permission to feel better about not _completely_ lying to him.

' _Suppose next time, we'll just have to tie you somewhere. Make sure you don't get up to any mischief?_ '

…

'Sounds like a lot of fun.' I tell him down the line, trying hard to hide my grin though it's positively taking over my face. 'Though I can't make promises about mischief?'

Before he has chance to throw a bucket of ice cold chastity onto my teasing, I quickly change the subject.

'This isn't too late a call for you is it?'

 _'Not at all. I'm rather pleased I had an excuse to leave early. Are you sure you're okay- you sound… groggy?_ '

I clear my throat, walking over to the sofa and laying upon it like a teenager with a crush.

'I'm fine. But tell me about your week? I want to hear _everything_!'

And just like always- I suddenly forget that I'm meant to be miserable, that my head is sore, that I ache all over and I'm fed up of people trying to alter every step I take. I just listen to his voice and love him that little bit more.

 _'It's full of disappointing excuses I'm afraid_.' He warns delightfully.

'That's okay- I think I could use some.' I don't know if he understands me but there's a sound of his warm chuckle.

 _'Well Sunday was insane- Thousands of delays from one end to the other and surprise, surprise- I was incredibly late landing. So because the plane was delayed, the car didn't pick me up so I hired one and half way to the hotel, it broke down._ '

'Oh Jesus, Carlisle. That's awful!'

He seems delighted by my apparent enthusiasm in his conversation and even more so by the appreciative hums I add. But those are more for the pleasure at hearing his voice again rather than what he wants to tell me.

' _It ended with me gutting the intestines of a car and reworking it all back together. My hands have never been so black_.'

Why is this such a sexy image?

'No wonder why you were tired, Hon.'

He pauses momentarily and I imagine the sweet little raise of his eyebrows as he questions my flirting. For the second at least- it doesn't seem to be a bother.

' _Admittedly, I was feeling quite sorry for myself._ '

'You had every right to.' I reassure him easily.

 _'Perhaps. But your Sunday? Is my car still in one piece_?'

'Of course. I fought Edward for the drive home and won.'

He congratulates me sweetly and pretty soon we fall so much into a routine that it takes a while to return to the original path of conversation. In all, his week has been insane. Less than a holiday than we might've expected and he's been spread so thin that I can hear how tired he is from a flight away. He still makes a gentle offer on returning home but I loosely reject it and try to ignore the guilt that stings my head.

But he's still cheerfully teasing, skirting the lines of saying the inevitable while I wait patiently for them and of course- I don't say a word about my head.

 _'So you enjoyed your night yesterday_?'

I force a smile even though he's not here to see it. _'Yeah... It was good_.'

 _'You no longer sound so enthused_?'

'I'm not drunk anymore.' I tell him honestly and I'm so far from being drunk it makes my head spin. 'But enough of that- tell me what your hotel is like?'

I'm concerned that this is falling into a dangerous territory. I swing my feet off the edge of the sofa, look towards the door to ensure its locked and take the stairs to his room. My steps are slow, my feet weary and with the phone still to my ear, I try to make myself sound less breathless.

 _'Oh, super fancy_.' He tells me, honestly. _'Quite ridiculous really, you'd probably enjoy it here_.'

'I'm sure I would.' I sigh, choosing not to hold back. He continues as carefree as he did before, and that simple act is making me miss him even more than I thought I did.

' _The bed is huge. Not exactly warm but still huge. The TV here has every channel I could think of and-_ '

 _'Every_ channel?' I tease him. There's a pause, a pause and perhaps what could be heard as an intake of breath.

' _Hold that thought_?' And for no particular reason, I shiver. _'You should see the shower. The water falls from the ceiling, as heavy as Niagara Falls but warmer. We should have one installed_.'

'Mmm, I think I would like that.' My teeth have sought my lip and out of starvation, I nibble the skin there.

'… _Is that a double entendre_?'

I'm convinced that if he keeps whispering foreign phrases down the phone line, I'll be on my way to Doctor-induced orgasm any second.

'Use your imagination, Cullen.' And I swear to God- I hear him gulp.

 _'So, urm, these films…?_ '

'Enlighten me?' I murmur, breathing easily and settling myself on the bed in the same manner.

' _You know what I'm asking._ '

'But I want you to _say_ it.' That sudden warmth of being around him returns, running through my thighs and my stomach as I arch my back against the pillows on the bed.

 _'Okay_.' He pauses, taking an intake of breath and shuffling. _'Esme, why did you pack porn in my suitcase?_ '

Could there _be_ a better sentence?

'Why do you think, Carlisle?'

There's another pause and just when I'm sure he's going to avoid an answer, he laughs. _'I mean thank- you. But-. Well it wasn't, urm, necessary?_ '

'So you haven't watched it.' I guess, using a thick tone to my voice.

Silence.

A heavy silence until those previous words: _'I never said that._ '

'Carlisle, no you haven't!' Please- please, let this be the day we're just granted the slightest bit of relief.

 _'Why pack it if you would be sure I wouldn't watch it?'_

'That's irrelevant.' I say quickly, feeling my cheeks grow ever so slightly warmer.

He chuckles again and despite the fact he's not here, I still feel the need to cast my eyes down and fiddle with the first thing my hand touches. Which just so happens to be the top button of this shirt.

 _'Sometimes, Miss Platt, it's like you refuse to accept I'm not as saintly as you think…_ '

My voice catches in my throat and I sigh longingly, readjusting myself right into the centre of the bed of it, entwining myself in the covers. My hand travels slowly from the top open button, to the one just beneath it. My fingers tremble catching the button over and over before it slides through the loop allowing some of the air to touch against my throat.

'Meaning?'

' _Meaning that I don't need porn to-. I don't need porn?_ '

After such an awful evening, I can't think of anything I'd like more right now than watch him say these words, but listening to them will have to do. They're just as thrilling.

'I thought you'd be grateful, it might give you some inspiration?' I tease sweetly, inhaling the soap from the pillows. 'But if you haven't watched it…?'

 _'I have watched it_.' He chuckles. And that warmth seems to spread a little until my fingertips create an itching need.

'How many times?' I ask, daringly.

 _'You would really like to know_?'

'Don't tease, Carlisle.' I chastise gently.

He's reluctant but with little less than a fight, sighs and offers his answer. _'Three times_.'

'You are joking?! What did you do take notes?' Three?! Three times?! He watched that same DVD three times? Why three times? If there was enough on the TV than why would he need to re-watch it?!

 _'What do you think I did, Esme_?'

Could my name sound hotter than in his voice? Laying on his side of the bed, I shut my eyes and breathe a little heavier, dreaming in the ideas. Imagining them, his breath heavy, his flushed skin. His erection-.

'You tell me.' I demand, thickly. I have to swallow again because an unforeseen amount of saliva has accumulated in my mouth, my tongue salivating at the idea.

 _'Use your imagination…_ ' he teases.

'Not shy are you, Doctor Cullen?'

 _'I don't think so_.' He tells me, his voice still bouncing playfully.

'I want Details, Carlisle. What did you do?' I hear him unsteadily inhale and then there's movement as he shifts to a bed or something.

 _'I want, huh_?' He surmises, unaware of the very delight he breathes into my veins. _'We are demanding, today, aren't we?_ '

My grip tightens around the phone in hopes it'll bring him closer to me. 'Not demanding just impatient.'

 _'Personally, I think I'd like to test that theory and the best way to do that is to-'_

'Okay, well what if I gave you some inspiration. Then will you tell me?'

 _'I'm afraid you've lost me, Miss Platt. What do you mean_ -'

'The washing machine's broken.' I interrupt again. I haven't had chance to check if this is another lie from Edward's end. I don't really care. I'm desperate.

 _'What happened to it?_ ' He's distracted far too easily.

'Eurgh I don't know but-' Pushing aside the extra fabric, I slide underneath the remaining cloth to lay below my stomach, my hand touching my abdomen beneath panty line. 'I'm all out of clothes…?'

 _'Esme…_ ' He whispers warningly.

'Just let me try?' I urge him. 'The moment you're uncomfortable-'

 _'I-I don't know if this is a good idea… For starters it's a bit awkward_?' But his chuckle only makes me feel braver.

'I miss you, Carlisle.'

He sighs softly, his voice so low against the phone. _'Reckon, I miss you more_.'

'Prove it?' I beg him. He chuckles again but this time it becomes a groan for me.

 _'Don't make me say it?_ '

So now I grumble. If there's anything I sure of, it's that I'm not drunk I know I'm not drunk and even if I was _still_ drunk after a _whole_ evening, then I wouldn't want this any less. Despite the antibiotics in my system- the hormones outweigh them.

'It's practically been a whole day since I phoned you. All three glasses have worn off-'

 _'You know as well as I do that it takes twenty four hours for-_ '

'Carlisle?' He stops talking, stops doing anything that isn't breathing.

 _'Is this really what you want_?' His tone has turned husky now, but still musically familiar around my neck.

'Is it what _you_ want?' I ask back, patient for his dismissal. It doesn't arrive.

 _'I think you know as well as I do that I'd prefer to be in person_.'

Again, I shiver, a knot forming in my gut close to where my sweaty hand is sliding against. 'And you will be. Consider this … a warm-up?'

 _'It's certainly warm in here, alright._ '

I sit up now, my eyes on the door with one hand brushing against my skin, teasing and the other still holding him to my ear. He chuckles again, soothingly and I suddenly realise that he's... _agreeing_? Carlisle Cullen doesn't _just_ agree. He's either for something or he's not. He _wants_ this. He wants me to persuade him. It's fair to say this is enough of a turn-on for the rest of my week.

Even more so than when I had my tongue in his mouth. The memory send shivers along my spine.

 _'So go on then- the washing machine is broken_?' His resistance is a tease considering he's encouraged the conversation. I laugh a little and so does he.

'Edward phoned me earlier about it.' Though the window down in the living room was very much a deliberate lie to encourage me into the arms of the girls.

 _'You can't do that, Es_.' He complains, hiding his amusement with a troublesome sigh.

'Can't do what?'

 _'You can't be asking for…whatever this is and then throw Edward into the conversation. It's a complete-_ '

'Turn off?' I offer, cheekily.

 _'Exactly_.'

The way the word presses into my ear almost makes it feel like he could be lying next to me, his arm wound under my waist, his fingertips laced in my hair…

'But I'm all out of fresh pyjamas?'

' _You don't always wear pyjamas._ ' He corrects me and I can see the frown of his eyebrows complimenting that dark smirk.

'But I am _now_?' Slight lie but I don't think that matters.

' _Oh… Then what are you-? Don't answer that.._.'

'You want to know what I'm wearing?'

 _'Es, this is so weird_.' He murmurs, chuckling still.

'Well I've had to make do with the usual: _Your_ T-shirt.' I can almost imagine him rolling his eyes. 'Can be quite uncomfortable, ey, Cullen?'

'How so?' He says playfully but his voice is thicker than before and I have to imagine him snuggling into the sheets with his arms up, his eyes closed.

'They're quite tight around the bust?' My hand goes to the flap of the shirts then up again, following the joint of fabric, feeling it press against the heat of my chest in the rhythm to his tense breathing. 'And you?' I ask, lowly.

He still sounds a little too shy to abandon his natural giggle so he settles for sounding a little short. _'Hilariously, I had a shower about an hour ago_.'

'Sure you did.'

 _'I did_!' He promises. _'The moment I got back, I jumped in the shower.'_

'The waterfall shower?'

 _'You really would like it_.' He sighs. _'It's such a good temperature. Not too hot either_.'

'I know a way to make it hotter?' I add pathetically, my tongue in-between my teeth

 _'Bit cheesy_?' He complains but I huff a little and hear his laughter. ' _…But I'm...I'm on the bed now_?' His change of tone lowers even further and though he's so beautifully shy, I feel my chest tighten a little.

'What are you doing?'

 _'Talking to you_?' He tries but this is followed by a half-hearted groan and I hear him shift about. _'I'm drying off…_ '

'You're not dressed?' I question, my chest rising as I think about such a nice image.

 _'Only in a towel_.'

'Hmm. Perhaps I should join you?'

When he speaks again, he's lost the giggling and the chuckling and is simply thick throated. _'Perhaps you should…?'_

I eye the door suspiciously again then sigh and strip the shorts from my legs. It should be cold in here, but that's not why my chest looks so full. Or my legs so thick. I'm sensitive, crying out to be touched while I fumble with the waistband of my underwear. His breathing is still quite even but also quite loud and thinking of that gives me the bravery I need to strip completely.

 _'A-are you okay?_ '

'Are you?' I ask instead.

 _'Of course- there's-. There's a lot of rustling_?' He questions, still curious and still warm to me.

When I inhale another breath, it flows into the receiver shakily, my fingers wind themselves along the remaining buttons of his shirt and hastily freeing them, I let the fabric slip away from my skin so that I'm completely and blissfully exposed. And not at all vulnerable about it.

'I'm butt-Naked on your side of the bed.' I say with a smirk he'll just about hear. He inhales sharply. 'It's much warmer on your side than mine? Perhaps I should permanently relocate?'

 _'Only if you wish, Hon_.' He's nervous, I can feel it and I love the honesty that his nerves encourage. But his nerves don't outweigh his curiosity. Another enchanting factor about him. _'Are you sitting up or laying down?_ '

My nails rake carefully over my knees, down my thighs and back again. That minty pine smell is imbedded in my hair and now I'm lying on that scent- I feel like I'm growing even warmer.

'How do you want me?' I ask. He takes a pause to reply.

 _'I want you comfortable…_ ' He says softly.

'Now who's demanding?'

 _'I can stop if you'd like_?' He offers kindly and it's such a horribly painful tease that I wise up quickly.

'Cullen.' This seems to jolt a bit of excitement into him.

 _'L-lying down. I want you…lying down_?'

So I shuffle down, my back flat against the space where he would usually lie on his front. I'm pressing my thighs together now, to try and slow the rush of hormones. To pause the excitement.

'And now?' He hesitates, struggling to be brave enough to say the words but now I'm down here, now I can feel him against me, the phone pressed against my warm face. 'What about you, Carlisle?'

 _'I'm lying down, too_.' He says softly.

'Have you got the TV on?'

 _'I don't think I need it with you teasing in my ear. Or do I?_ '

'No.' I say gently, biting my lip. 'How am I doing?'

' _Fantastically_.' He promises and it has a way of making me feel even sexier than I might have felt an hour ago.

'How are you feeling?' I pose suggestively. He hums.

 _'Warm_.'

'Literally warm or aroused?'

He sighs, stiffly, the sound stuttering in my head so brilliantly. _'Perhaps the latter_?'

'Are you saying-'

But he interrupts me in the best way. _'Es, I've had one for the last ten minutes...?_ '

It's hilarious how he sys it with such a tone, as though it's obvious and I'm just being a pain. The world around me seems to become even more beautiful. My knotted stomach squeezes tighter so that the heat, the never ending warmth simply grows and travels further until it's burning away at my core, aching for release. _Now_ we're getting somewhere.

'Ten minutes is a long time, Carlisle.' I tell him, my palm squeezing my abdomen, begging for a little patience to enjoy the torture of him.

 _'Don't I know it._ ' Now the nervous giggle is neither his nor my fault but simply both of ours but it recovers well with a simple sigh on my end.

'So what have you been doing for ten minutes that I've not known about?'

 _'The usual_.' He says breathily. I laugh again.

'Which is?'

 _'Waiting, of course_.'

'Waiting for me?' I clarify, only slightly confused by the suggestion. He doesn't form the actual words to reply but does manage a gentle hum in the affirmative. ' _All_ for me?' I tease, breathing harder.

Imagining him hard is enough to make my pulse beat harder. My tongue moistens under the suggestion so that it's not only my mouth which is wet for him. Shuddering, I run my hand down the inside of my thigh, brushing slightly against the fine hair. I think he hears the catch in my voice, because he sounds equally as breathy.

 _'All yours_.' He promises.

'Are you touching yourself?'

 _'Are you_?' He asks, playfully and if he was to be more sharp, I'd accuse him of being stressed.

'Not exactly…' I say, honestly and I think it's fair to say I've impressed myself with this very display of patience.

 _'Treat yourself?_ '

'You _want_ me to touch myself?' I ask him. I imagining him squirming, blushing, biting his lip but he's clearly not doing so.

'...More than anything?' He sighs, peacefully. It's such a calming sentence, so motivational and innocent. The pulsing need to be touched beats in time to my heart. The moist warmth spreads from my abdomen all around my lower half until I'm fidgeting around with my own need for friction.

'Where?'

 _'Hmm_?'

 _'Where_ do you want me to touch myself?'

 _'You know where_.' He whispers, darkly.

'Give me a suggestion?' I ask, biting my lip even harder and positively marking myself in his honour.

 _'You really want my input?_ '

'Yes.'

 _'Sure_?' He teases.

'Cullen.'

 _'Start at your collar bone_?' I move my hand according to his instruction, letting it rest against my collar bone. With every breath I take, it moves. _'Be gentle_.'

'Obviously.'

 _'Demanding again?_ ' He whispers playfully.

'I'm hot-as-hell, of course I'm demanding!' Here meaning I'm hot _for_ him rather than figuratively. 'But I'm touching my collar bone.'

' _Where do you want to be touched_?'

'Everywhere.' I murmur thickly and I wonder how his face might resppond to the comment.

 _'Let your hand fall…_ '

'Over my tits?' I guess.

 _'Be soft._ ' He instructs. _'Barely touching, let your touch slip over your body… Softer than …my… hands._ '

I swallow loudly. 'I kinda wish you were replacing my hands right now…'

 _'So do I_.' He chuckles sweetly, his voice unkempt and nervous. _'More than anything…_ '

'I needed this...' I whine, appreciatively tensing my body as I dream about his thick hard-on, pushing into my thigh, my hand running over it. He groans a little.

 _'Where is your hand now_?'

'Wherever you want it to be?'

 _'Down your stomach. Slowly_.'

I deliberately whine out when my finger passes against my nipple, shuddering slightly as I imagine him taking it into his mouth, biting, teasing-. But I'm obedient, my hand sliding down into my stomach and stopping at the naval, thumb caressing the space.

'And now?' I hadn't imagined my voice to be so shaky. I don't think he did either but then his is even more vulnerable under my ear and he loses both words and volume. 'Unless you think I should take over?'

 _'That might be best_.' He says difficultly and I can picture the difficult smile on his face.

'I'm quite soft.' I giggle. 'Silky almost?'

He murmurs uncomfortably but doesn't form any specific words.

'It feels good though to be-'

 _'Esme.._.' He murmurs, falling into a gentle chuckle. I think I want to make him say my name again. And again. And again. I want him groaning it. Making love to it with his innocent tongue.

'I'm touching my thighs.' And ignoring that big fuck off burn. 'My hands are resting along my thigh.'

To prove my honesty, I sigh a little as my hand moves down, letting a noise of frustration fall out my mouth when I tense. I can imagine his mouth moving against mine, his hands needy and they fall along my body and I jolt underneath it, desperate for release.

'And you? Are you-'

 _'Yeah_ ,' he whispers, softly, intervening once more. _'Yeah, I am_.'

'And?' I ask impatiently. He can probably detect my hunger. Good.

 _'I must say it's more exciting than usual? But I'd give anything to be at home right now._ '

'Touching me?' I encourage and though he doesn't need to be reminded, it suddenly surprises me when I remember he's never done this before. That this is his first telephone hard-on. That I'm potentially his first sexy- cell encounter. It makes my skin grow warm.

 _'Y-yes_.' And like normal, he can't help but stumble a little. _'Just to be next to you would be-_ '. He stops. He stops and he sighs heavily, listening out for my suggestions instead.

My hand falls away from my thigh, falls past my hip, itching to be placed against my core, desperate for movement. I watch my breasts rise and fall in movement to my breaths. He's as loud and as heavy as I am, under my ear.

'Are you using your _left_ hand?' And a fleeting thought reminds me to do a little bedside drawer snooping again, before he comes home.

 _'Mmm_?' The sound falls from his mouth rather aggressively, turning into a deep groan rather than a sweet denial. _'Yeah. Yeah I'm_ -.' He cuts himself off again breathing in quickly and waiting for me to pose another question.

'I'm desperate, Carlisle.' And for once, rather than fight my statements, he lets himself hear them. 'I want...you.'

Since when did honesty become so hot?

 _'Oh Hon, so do I. More than-_ '

'Than anything?' I tease.

' _Forgive me- I'm running out of better sayings?_ ' He apologises, amusedly and even though I'm miles away, I can hear him writhing away uncomfortably. His voices catches slightly, struggling to fit the air into his lungs as he lets himself be carried away. I'm so _wet_ for him.

'Sounds like you're running out of breath, too, Cullen?'

 _'Uh, Es. Please. Stop teasing_.'

'You _want_ me to give myself an orgasm?' I add, elongating the moment even more, my ankles entwining as I tense every nerve in my body in anticipation.

 _'Uh-huh_.'

'Carlisle?' I sing, lovingly.

 _'Yes_!' He groans quickly, as playful as he is frustrated. _'Oh God, yes_.'

So I do. Holding the phone to my ear with a shoulder, I let my right hand tease along my legs until inserting a finger into my slick folds. I don't hold back, not for a moment and even though I probably should be incredibly embarrassed, I'm so turned on by how he's getting off on this that I let myself be louder.

It's blissful.

I sharply inhale as my fingers work their way from my centre all the way back to the top of my slit, dragging all that moisture with it.

 _'Esme_?' He begs, trying desperately to be funny but it's almost lost with how engrossed I am with my own hand movements.

'I'm soaking, Carlisle. Urgh, I just need-' This time, it's me interrupting myself with a whine, my knees coming up to allow a wider access to wherever my touch would like to tease.

 _'Tell me what you need_?' He begs softly and he's so gentle about it, he could be here, under my weight, guiding my hand to be exactly what I need.

I need- the soft pad of my finger unexpectedly brushes against my clit and my grunt of pleasure is about as thick as his cock would be with my mouth around it.

'I need to _come_.' My voice informs him. I need him to be the one to do it with his hands but that's not the main focus right about now. 'I've been holding off all week, Carlisle. I need you to _make_ me come...'

His already-unsteady breath falls quieter.

 _'H-how do I do that_?'

'Tell me what you're doing?'

Screw demanding, I'll just about control how and in what direction he ejaculates if he finds it as sexy as I do. The accidental touch from earlier has now developed into deliberate teasing circles with limited pressure, causing the warmth to spread all over my body and my toes to curl.

 _'I'm rubbing myself_.' He says thickly and though he's not as loud as I am, he still makes sure to groan a little for me. _'I've got a closed fist around the shaft and I'm...moving_.'

It's better than I thought. The delight of his groans warm up my movements until I'm tingling all over. I don't know what he's moving. Whether he's thrusting into his hand or if his expert hands are touching him but I want it all. All at once.

'Fast or slow?'

 _'Slowly for now. I'm holding off-_ '

'I wouldn't worry about that, Hon. I'm on the edge.' I pant and he laughs, too. If it can be called a laugh. 'Are you circumcised?'

 _'Hmm_?'

'Circumcised, Cullen? Got a foreskin or not?'

 _'Oh_.' And he chuckles again, giving into the edge it grants him on his pumping. ' _I'm not circumcised, no?_ '

'That was a reluctant answer. Are you _sure_ you're telling me the truth?' Sometimes I'm accidentally clever.

'A _t the very least I promise to prove it at some point when I'm home_.'

'What _else_ are you going to do when you're home?' I ask, biting my lip particularly hard as I try to prolong the unwavering joy that losing two fingers to my slit can have.

 _'Whatever you'd like me to._ ' He answers smoothly, still gentle in his voice though I am needy and sweaty.

'What would _you_ like to do?' I insist. He hesitates nervously, causing me to add a soft 'Please?' which I'm sure he barely hears.

 _'I'd like to make you even warmer than you are now… Make you…wetter_..' I can't help it, at this I groan encouragingly, my two fingers teasing more vigorous circles. He breathes sharply pleased with the spontaneous sounds off my tongue and learning ever so quickly. _'Esme, I want you coming so hard that the only thing you can think is my name_.'

Urgh, great minds think alike.

'F-uck.' I stutter as I near the high, tensing and teasing while he groans in my ear, supportively.

 _'Esme Platt, I wouldn't just fuck you_, _I'd make love to you until you're begging for a release_.'

I'm begging, oh God, I'm _begging_ now. The sensation builds, I'm rocking onto the peak of the feeling, clinging onto his words as life support. Since when was he so great at this?!

'Uh, Carlisle-.' I don't even remember doing anything, all actions are automatic and as I picture him making such suggestions, inside of me.

' _I would be so gentle that I'd give you an orgasm without sliding one nerve into you._'

Talking dirty is my new favourite thing. It builds, the sensation taking over, reaching the top so that as my fingers move faster, I hit my peak, the walls clench around my hand and I fall from grace so powerfully, the only things that can come out of my mouth is in a whimper.

'Carlisle, I'm _coming_.'

 _'So am I, my Love_.'

And the moment I manage to force the words out, I hear him groan a few seconds later and we ride out our high, needy, breathlessly as if we're one body against another. My body trembles from the blissful violence, quivering exhaustively as I pant for breath. He does the same, laughing when he can finally find the energy but there's not a lot left.

' _Fucking hell._ ' He mutters and I have a wildly peaceful image of him laying like me, an arm behind his head, panting needing.

'Language, Doctor Cullen.' I chastise playfully, loving the very sound of it. I love that this is what I reduced him to, an honest sailor. 'How was it?'

' _For me_?' He asks, dazily. I want to roll my eyes, but I want him to see it. I want to be showing off how exhausted I am from _his_ build up. I want to be curled into him, comparing heartbeats to see who has the biggest kink.

'Of course not, I was asking for the President of Uganda's input.' I'm not the funniest person alive and this isn't one of my best jokes so instead of laughing he settles for a pleased hum of acknowledgement. And it still makes me feel proud.

' _Admittedly, I'm rather concerned over the volume of-. I hadn't expected for there to be so much… err?_ '

'Was it awkward?' I ask, instead. It's better to start with a specific question. Maybe this'll help him keep a grasp on things.

' _Not at all- and yet, I'd still say I was… inexperienced_?'

'I don't think so.' I reply, honestly.

' _Ah, well you would say that, Miss Platt. You're a charmer._ '

'We've all got to start somewhere.'

'A _s far as starters go- that might be the best I'm yet to have._ '

Though this is neither a joke nor intentionally funny, my flattery at the comments makes me feel more comfortable than ever to laugh with him. Even if he can't manage much conversation in return. That was good though, right?

'So you… enjoyed yourself?' I ask, hopefully unable to hide the paranoia. The chuckle he gives is enough to reinstate my pride.

' _Was the groaning too subtle for you_?' He adds mockingly and I almost feel like if he was by my side, he'd ease the blade of the comment with a tentative stroke of his touch to mine. _'I can't even begin to…_ '

'To?'

'T _. Would it make sense if I simply said I miss you?_ ' He finalises instead. He probably knows this isn't a great answer because he says it shyly, nervous for my reply.

'But not enough to initiate anything?'

' _Es_!' He gargles.

'What?'

' _That's not even slightly true-._ '

'Hush Carlisle, I was only teasing.' But I've said it now and I think we're both aware that it's not a total lie.

' _Would you like me to-_ '

'Stop. It was just a passing comment. Don't wind yourself up into-'

'Y _ou'd like me to… make a move?'_

'Not if it made you uncomfortable. Why are you being so weird about this?' I laugh, softly and it takes for that to hear him relax a little.

' _But you… want me_?'

'Was the phone sex too subtle?' I say, mumbling his words back him with a gentle giggle. He sounds confused and very relieved but I couldn't posssibly understand where the hell it's coming from. 'Carlisle, I'm not getting off on sweet nothings. I do… _want_ you. But I'm not going to make you uncomfortable for it.'

Is this something I should be confessing to on the phone? I don't think so. This feels really stupid. But also quite necessary.

' _It's not that-._ ' And I'm suddenly surprised to hear that he sounds- _excited_? 'I _t's just that I'd never want to put you off. I want you to be comfortable?_'

 _Me_ comfortable? But I've been trying to accomodate _him_? Thus: a loop. The way my smile teases my face is not unlike the accidental smiles he's given this past week. They feel as gentle as though they might soften my expression, make me seem warmer and friendlier-. I think I'd give anything I could to see it coming from him about now...

'Are you okay?'

' _Never better._ ' He whispers, overly pleased with matters that I had up until this point always considered unbelievably obvious. ' _You_?'

'I'm fucking exhausted.' I say gratefully and I almost want to compliment that it's because of him I can't bear to move.

He laughs well, the sound less playful and more effortless and I try to desperately gain a breath or two back. I'm still lying on my side, phone wrenched beneath my ear and my right hand damp with our exploits- the thought makes me want to laugh but I'm so tired that I don't think I can manage it.

' _Una Degna causa._ '

A shiver runs over my shoulders and though I'm not used to it, I feel like I need him all over again. But in a different, less exhaustive manner. _Una Degna Causa._

'Carlisle?'

' _Mmm_?'

'Hurry home.'


	35. Reasons why it's a game of cards

_**Thank you for your lovely comments on the last chapter! I think it's fair to say the ball is rolling... down a very steep hill! Anyway, I've had a lot of fun writing the next few chapters and hope you enjoy it just as much! Please leave your comments and I will be forever grateful!**_

 _ **Thank you! xx  
**_

* * *

'You know what I find insane?' Edward prompts, finger tapping against his chin as he gazes out the windscreen window, squinting.

The tone catches my attention. He sounds more playful than condescending and it brings a breeze to our awkward silence. I've parked the car up now and have been waiting in the silence for the last few moments to recover the use of my feet. Having undergone a horrendous night of longing and insufferable patience, all the while informing Edward on trade secrets, this is where I find myself. Silence.

'For the last time, I said I wasn't going to say anything else on the matter.' I sigh exhaustively. He frowns, hiding his smirk behind his hand. I'd had enough of his questioning looks from the moment I opened my mouth to him. I don't think I can deal with another bout of confusion.

'No, Esme. Not that.' He shakes his head at me.

'Oh?' I'm not surprised, I'm challenging him to surprise me.

'I was going to make a comment about how _easily_ persuaded you are when-'

'Edward.'

He forces another grumble and settles into the passenger seat. 'If I'm not here to cause irritation then why invite me?'

'You know why.' I say quietly. My eyes are on the window, too, the cold droplets of a drizzly day slipping down and gathering speed as I watch them.

'You're not going to run, Es.'

'Not while you're here.' It's a clever tactic to bully myself into matters which are probably far more helpful than I want to admit and I reckon he knows this.

'He'd be proud of you.' He murmurs supportively.

'He's not dead, Edward. He's working.' What is wrong with this Kid?

'Sorry, I took one look at your state of mourning and got confused.'

I take a look at my clothes and frown. He's right. I'm dressed all in black, looking somewhat tired and somewhat bleak but with a healthy blush on my cheeks that hasn't left since late last night.

 _Last night_ …

I squeak my boots together before taking the keys and passing them into Edward's open palm.

'You're going to be fine.'

'I _know_!' I snap and then I feel guilty and give him an apologetic expression. He's hinting to my departure.

'The quicker-'

'That's not how an appointment works.'

'Es.' He calls, knowingly, his face surprisingly light hearted since yesterday's fury. I guess he had no reason to be angry anymore. Even if he was going along with my slight deception to Carlisle (not that he knew this), I was making an effort to be honest with one of them. 'Just _go_ will you?'

'I'm leaving, anyway.' I say, fidgeting in the seat.

'Es-'

'For God's sake- I'm going!'

* * *

It's not as bad as I make out. In fact, it's just the waiting in the hall which is stress inducing and though I made Edward keep me company in the car, I've forbidden him from crossing the hospital steps.

Of the ninety minutes appointment, the first thirty minutes are pure torture. Not because I'm on the edge of balling my eyes out again which I've strangely become an expert in recently, but instead because it's horribly quiet. She greets me with a semi-warm smile, one more of familiarity than of hope and points towards her office as if I might be doing an interview. I feel the need to put on as much pretence, a polite smile and a handshake doesn't welcome itself.

'I'm glad you're here.' Doctor Browning says, and any kind of comfort this sentence might have given me is lost in the manner in which she says it.

Her room is smaller than I'd imagined but still nice. She has the ceiling to floor shelves that I've seen Carlisle gazing upon in the hardware store except a lot of her shelves are missing things to use the space. Her diploma is on display behind her head with a few odd quotes surrounding it about _peace being within_ and all that bollocks. It's quaint and nervy and I just wish she had a photo of her kid or someone to make it feel better.

'How has your week been?' She begins and because my throat is weirdly dry, I'm left to the dependence of a shrug.

She doesn't question my silence but hands me a few sheets of paper that I have to sign proving that whatever I discuss is confidential. To be fair, I'm not saying anything so it's _super_ confidential. Thirty minutes in of awkward silences and pitying small talk and she almost gives in.

'How about a game?' She asks, one ankle bouncing over the other.

'A game?' I repeat.

'Familiar with cards?'

Suddenly the hair and the clothes all fit the pretty image I have of her drinking expensive champagne with her husband and all her rich college friends, surrounding a cheese board.

'Sorry, I only take cash.'

And as we've already established, this isn't the kind of humour to have people laughing with me. But she ignores my jibe, finds a pack of cards from her desk and lays them in front of me for me to shuffle. I do a shit job but she doesn't say anything just yet, she touches the back of the card, stroking the blue pattern.

'If you guess correctly, you get to ask me a question. If not, you'll have to answer mine.' She informs and I'm so astounded by her informality, I have to double check to make sure Alice hasn't taken the seat in front of me.

'What?' Is all I manage.

But she picks up the card, not showing it to either of us yet. 'Higher or lower?'

'Err?'

She nods to the next new card on the top pile.

'Than the one I have in my hand.' She explains, keeping a straight face when she finally turns it around to face her. I've not been in a situation like this so I just shrug and take a guess.

'Lower?'

She picks it up, nods and shows me both cards as if to prove herself; 'Correct.'

'Right?'

'So you may ask a question.' She goes on to repeat.

Without meaning to, my eyes go straight to the clock and they stay there, concerned, watching two whole minutes go by while I contemplate whatever decision I've walked myself into.

'How many of these sessions do I have to have?' I ask her, quietly.

She smirks, picking up the cards to shuffle them again before switching her silent look upon my face. She's so stern looking that it helps to make me feel a little more relaxed. It meand we could both be stand off-ish without either being an arse.

'None.' She says.

'Yes _but_ -'

'You haven't chosen a card.' She interrupts. I pause, my hand in the air.

'Okay,' I say steadily. 'Higher?'

She picks it up, and shakes her head, a small smile playing on her mouth though she still has that registered look of boredom that I think comes with my presence. 'Are you local to the hospital?'

'What?' I think this is the only word I'm comfortable with right now, all other sounds are pretentious and time consuming.

'Have you lived here all your life?' She clarifies. It's a stupid question.

'No.' I say wearily.

She waits. For a very long time.

' _No_ , I'm from Ohio.'

This produces a small smile and she gestures to the pile of cards again as if my reward is to move on.

'Higher?' I guess. It's the Five of Spades. One number above the Four of Hearts. It's a stupid childish game but I smile. 'Are you doing this because I could make you good money or as a favour to Carlisle?'

'You seem to be awfully concerned about his intentions, still?' She murmurs, eyeing me suspiciously as though I might have a microphone buried beneath my coat. 'Nevertheless, none. As a patient, your bills will be covered by the standard insurance. As for Doctor Cullen- he's not even here this week, is he? I wouldn't know. Different specialisms.' This could very well be a clever lie but she doesn't give a shit enough to want to convince me. Which makes me even surer it _is_ the truth.

I guess another card right.

'What makes you think I _need_ \- whatever this is?' I ask rather awkwardly, looking about the space to confirm the stereotypes. At the very least- I have to be grateful that there's no couch but rather a lounging chair.

She doesn't seem surprised by my open criticisms though she does seem entertained by them. 'I think you know for yourself why you came here.'

'Did you expect me to turn up?' I ask, unable to hide the attitude in my bark.

She thinks about this for a while. 'Not really. But I don't expect anyone. I stay hopeful.'

'I guess you got lucky.' I surmise, shifting my shoulder in a friendly shrug.

'I guess I did.' She muses. I take another guess at 'lower' and get it wrong so that it's up to her to ask a question. 'Is there a specific reason for you deciding to finally book an appointment?'

'Not specific.' I say, dismissively. It doesn't fail her notice.

'But a reason, nevertheless?'

My hands start to fiddle, my bones clicking as I stretch my fingers out and then the fingers on my right hand. I stare at them for a while, thinking semi-bad thoughts, eyeing the nails and length. How they might have looked last night…

'Would you like me to open a window? You've gone awfully red?'

Her voice makes me jump because I've drifted away for a moment or two. I feel both my cheeks with the back of my hands, surprised by their warmth but not by their colour and let myself nod.

'Tell me, Miss Platt. How is your…?' _Ass_? -I think critically. She inclines her face away, opening the window with a fierce push before reclaiming a seat.

'Fine.'

'Better?' She asks.

'I don't always notice it.' I tell her honestly. 'It can be easy to forget about sometimes…'

'And work?' She poses. 'How is your boss?'

My palms are now replicating the same heat of my cheeks and with sweaty palms, I smooth the creases of the material on my legs.

'I've got… _five_ days holiday.' Five?! Only _five_?! It's only been a few days. For fuck sake- Tilly pretty much ruined..?! Oh Jesus. _Tilly_. In five days' time, I'd have to see her again. I'd have to face them both…

'You really are going through the motions, aren't you Miss Platt?'

'Excuse me?' I croak

'Perhaps a glass of water?

I nod, give her moment of absence a chance to settle my now pale exterior and thank her for the plastic cup once she comes back in. It's like water to a dead plant. Useless but pleasing.

'And you'll be going back?' She assuumes.

'I-' I cut myself off, summing her up through the view of my lashes. She still has that bored expression written on her face, her hair pushed away from it as she waits. 'I need your help with something?'

For the first time since meeting her, she gives me a genuinely smug smile...

* * *

Edward is still sat in my car by the time I'm finished. He's fiddling with the radio, eyes nervously on the clock while I make my way back into the seat. It's hard to say if I look any different, I probably should. I don't _feel_ too different. Maybe a bit more shaken but not in a concerning manner. Either way, I'm not sure I like it.

'So?' He asks., eyebrows up. 'How was it?'

'Awkward.'

'That's it?' He refutes, looking mildly distressed.

I nod.

'Did she ask about your head?'

I nod again. 'She recommended I talk to the police.'

'And?'

'Well I've already spoken to Charlie, haven't I?'

Including this morning where I corrected my earlier statement to included my co-workers full name. Which reminds me I should really thank him again. Not all officers would turn up to your house in the dead of night (almost) and be so polite. I'm half convinced that the moment I hand in my notice is going to be the worst week of my life and I'm already not looking forward to the Tuesday shift I have coming up. In _five_ days' time. Edward's been waiting for this. Waiting for me to mention or even reference the Swans so he can make a point of discussing them.

'Speaking of- they send their well wishes.' He's judging by yesterday's standard, he's not aware that I've heard them for myself.

'Nice.' I say, bluntly.

'Es, come on. How do you expect him to do anything if-'

'I don't expect anything. I don't want any trouble.'

He turns his face to me, pausing his jitteriness to remember to actually be nice. Though his nicety is ridiculous and he becomes pathetic. 'You're tired.'

'No shit.' I catch my reflection in the mirror and wince. For all that mattered I might have not slept at all yesterday, I would've looked better. I have a mixture of gaunt purple exhaustion with a blush that won't leave my cheeks no matter how much air I take into the car.

'Well at least-. _Err_. Nevermind.'

'At least, what?'

'No, nothing, I was just going to say-. At least it's…Friday? Only a few more days?'

I roll my eyes, hitting up the engine so that it makes a gentle murmur of disappointment. 'Jesus, Edward, I give you an inch and you take a mile.'

'I was being… encouraging?' He tries, tasting the word carefully in his mouth as though he's fully aware it doesn't sound correct.

'You're being involved. It's weird.'

At least he agrees with me on that. But we're both somewhat distracted and because he wants to leave my presence, without giving much of a reason why, I end up dropping him off back home.

'I don't know why you bothered coming with me if you're so busy?' I tell him once I've parked briefly onto the curb of our street. He rolls his eyes, neck a little pink as he avoids facing me.

'What is with you today? You're so…'

'So?' I push.

'So _foul_. Jesus, you were nicer when you were moping.'

I'm _still_ moping, I want to say. But that seems a little inappropriate for Edward's ears. He gets out the car, leaning through the window all awkward and lanky, while clearly distressed by my presence. Perhaps I should get him stamped with the words; I DON'T NEED BABYSITTING.

'What are you gunna do, see Alice?'

I roll my eyes, he really doesn't ever listen properly unless it is some kind of secret. 'I've got lessons. You know I don't finish till six today.'

He nods, remembering as he scratches his chin, fingers drumming a pattern on my window sill. 'And are you _sure_ you're okay?'

If he asks one more time-. Though he is being cautious and I should appreciate that so I smile weakly and rest my head against the seat, revving up the engine for an answer but it only really produces a gentle frown.

'I'd better go, I'm already late for my first lesson.'

'I'll see you at home, then.' He quips quickly, stepping away to quickly disappear. I beep the horn at him. ' _What_?'

'You didn't want me to bring something home for dinner, did you? I could cook something?' I offer, generously and now I realise how pathetically lonely this is coming across. He's noticed it, too. He rolls those green eyes until he's staring at the state of his hair.

'Two days, Esme.'

Three more like it- I know what planes are like and I have the worst luck in the world. But he taps the bonnet and runs down our driveway, waving me off like the teenager he is.

* * *

My lessons aren't too bad, though and the break I have between two-to-three o'clock is long enough to snuggle myself in the corner of the library and research up on a few job opportunities before the last lecture. I've texted Carlisle _six_ times and thought about sending a seventh but after the lack of replies, I'm giving myself enough paranoia that I don't think I'll be able to deal with the embarrassment of another rejection. It's frustrating and I can't understand why after such a good night- such a _great_ night- he doesn't want to speak to me. Humiliation? Concern? Disgust? Or the worst of them all: _Regret_? I'm hoping he's just stupidly busy. Being dragged here there and everywhere by hot-shot doctors with bank checks while I tumble myself into a knot.

I've spent a little time on the phone to Emmett. He still wants to play baseball tomorrow but he's worried about my head. Alice has offered to host us either way, promising weakly not to drink and although I know it's not a good idea to go while I'm still as irritable as a cat in an ice-cold bath- it's still baseball. With or without Carlisle, it is fun being with the gang. Just not _as_ fun.

It's stopped raining since this morning and the drizzle is quickly clearing up even though there wasn't much of it in the first place. I fiddle with a few loose strands of my hair in one particular class, pinning them over the stitches to avoid the questions and the staring of the strangers around me but to my satisfaction, they don't give me another look. The first two professors are pleased to see me and pleased by my contribution though it's limited and somewhat direct.

'Esme?' The same professor from the other day stops me, collecting a few things in a briefcase before offering a suspicious smile. 'Good work today.' I'm about to thank him when he stops me again, thinking. 'You have Olivia next, right? _Marble 101_.'

This is probably meant to be a slight joke as his co-workers expense but I nod anyway, looking horrifically awkward as I do so.

'Well, if you get chance, I really think it'll be beneficial for you to look up these sculptors…' He writes a few names on a bit of paper, tears off the corner and passes it my way. They're all old Greek figures, one in particular that I know from the reading.

'Thank you.'

I'm starting to wonder what it is that makes him want to help, considering I was dreaming of tearing up his guts two days ago but I can appreciate it and what I can appreciate even more is the next lecture. I like the fact that Brian called it _Marble 101_ because that's pretty much what it is and yet- rather than be bored to tears as I usually am with most types of lectures now, I find I'm hanging off my seat. Olivia, who is just about rolling in various qualifications and titles, is presenting some kind of introduction to how sculpture is timeless and despite all the waffle, every new slide catches my eye. Marble is kind of gorgeous. You've got figures sculptured to perfection with clear complexions, full lips, waves detailed in their hair, muscles constructed from nothing and all of them, while being so beautiful and wise in their depiction, are weirdly innocent. As pure as the stone they're made from with not one deliberate embellishment. Not even down to the pre-puberty genitals which, frankly, _need_ a bit of a revision.

It catches my attention so much that when the lecture is dismissed, I don't register enough to stand up. My head is so full with all these amazing ideas, all claiming my attention as they come rushing from hand to page.

'Lectures over.'

I look up to find my professor watching over my handwriting and waiting for my exit.

'Sorry.' I murmur, packing everything away with fumbling hands but the screen catches me again and I'm staring at Michelangelo's _David_ , the stature, the posture, the marble.

'He's caught your eye, hmm?'

Another awkward smile makes itself known on my face and without knowing why, I nod a little.

'He's kinda hot.' I admit, laughing a little when I feel my cheeks warming. She swishes her fiery ponytail over her shoulder so that it moves when she agrees with me.

'Maybe if you're into that kind of thing.' She says, gesturing with both hands to the enlarged angle of him from the projector. I see even more from this position and we snicker amongst ourselves as though we're children. 'But I'm pleased you've discovered an interest.'

I don't think we've spoken much before. I guess we wouldn't exactly cross paths. But I quite like her. She has the most gorgeous auburn hair and probably a temper to match it. She's dressed in matching colours to her shoes and handbag but couldn't be older than her mid-thirties and seems even younger. I make it past her desk, grinning pathetically but she calls me again just as I'm about to cross the door.

'Hey, Esme? Italy is a _wonderful_ place. And he's even more spectacular in person?' The raise of her eyebrow is clear enough that I get the suggestion right away. And of course, I curse the money in my bank for it.

'Thanks, Olivia. I'll consider it.'

'I'll keep recommending it.' She promises. 'See you next week.'

I smile back, waving as I retreat from the room and come colliding right into someone, smack into the middle of their chest like I haven't left the room at all and I'm hitting marble.

'Oops, my bad.' And finding the balance on my back heels, I move again.

'And Edward said you were in such a _bad_ mood?' He teases, gently encircling my wrist with his fingers and pulling me back. My eyes blink and then again but a little more furiously. I don't trust my view for the moment but then I'm overwhelmed by that familiar cologne of woodland pine and freshly grown mint.

I take in the smart jeans, the simple button up shirt encased by a black jacket before looking right up at his face. _Carlisle's_ face. He's home. His mouth is pressed together, similar to the sharpness of his jaw and the stubble that grazes it- hold on… _stubble_?!

Oh my fucking God- is that stubble?! Carlisle Cullen has stubble?!

STUBBLE?!

With my eyes enlarging, I take a harder look. That is _definitely_ a shadow and it looks…it looks good? Why on Earth has he been shaving for so long if _this_ is what he looks like with stubble?!

Holy …wow. Just wow. Stubble is his thing… stubble and dishevelled… yep that is his thing.

'Err?!'

'Hello to you, too.' He murmurs with a grin wide enough to show off all of his gleaming teeth.

He's _home_?!

Nothing worth translating comes out of my mouth so I take fistfuls of his shirt and hold onto him, pushing myself onto my tiptoes to make it easier to hug him but he's a gentleman and he stoops a little to squeeze my shoulders with his body.

He's taller than I always estimate and so relaxed, allowing me to fit perfectly with his arms, pressed tight against him as though this is completely natural for us. I take several extra doses of the scent on his shirt collar, committing it to memory in case I have to suffer without it again.

'You fool, when I said _hurry home_ , it was a figure of speech!'

I feel him chuckle, actually _feel_ it this time, gently vibrations against my skin as perfectly beautiful as the natural lock of his arms.

'Oh, _I_ know.'

He pulls back, a hand still weaved into the side of my hair as those spritely blue eyes take in every detail of what horror I must look like. I can't really care, who has the time? I let my right hand touch his cheek, expecting to be prickled by the sudden shadow that has invaded his face but it still feels relatively smooth, just thick and heavy.

'You have _stubble_!' I murmur, just as amazed as I was when I first saw it and incredibly, _incredibly_ in love with it. It's different and yet so outrageously good. My other hand feels the opposite side of his face and he lifts his jaw to allow for better exploration under his chin. It's thicker by his neck: coarser, but still good looking. It makes him look like some sort of rogue model.

'I didn't have time to shave.' He chuckles, making a show of what little irritation it's causing him. 'I'm sorry.'

'Not at all. I like it. Love it in fact. It's _so_ -'

Afraid that he might see the trembling excitement in my hands, I reluctantly pull them from his face, grinning. So he moves his hand from my hair, a gentle touch lingering along my skin until his index finger and thumb settle under my chin, pulling my face towards him so that I can't shy away.

' _So-_?' He encourages, his enticing breath dragging me in, cool on my blushing face and sweet like aeroplane mints. As he waits, he grows impatient and a testing eyebrow flickers up in question. My grin goes even loopier.

'Sexy.' I murmur, taking in every drop of colour from his staring and holding dearly onto it. He brushes the edge of his thumb along the line of my lip, and to stop the itch, I smile. So he slides it to rest in the middle of my bottom lip, instead plump and delicate. He gently inclines his head, grinning as he drops his eyes from mine to my mouth.

'May I?' He whispers.

Though I don't want to concern him, I do quickly flash my eyes to the hall around us. We're not alone, as I would love to be right now, though we are very much blended into the traffic of students fighting their way to the car-lot. For an answer, I push myself onto my tiptoes. I don't know how he manages it,I'm already acting spontaneously, but he holds off for just a moment so that I can taste his laugh. It's warmer up closer and thick like a mist but sweet, refreshing and addicting like the first breath of oxygen after drowning.

As he angles his face, his eyes close so I shut mine too, taking a nervous intake of breath when I feel his laughter again. It's minty and overpowering and my mouth is watering. He delicately locks my bottom lip between his so that I feel his stubble itch beneath my nose. It tickles so I chuckle, pulling him closer to me as he recaptures my lips and I move to allow him further access but he pulls away rashly, lips pink and flushed.

I didn't realise there could be such an absence to my mouth without him. It's so noticeable.

'Don't tempt me?' He pleads, pushing his mouth onto mine for one last taste as though securing a deal with a handshake.

'You're getting better.' I compliment, my lips ticklish as they call for his attention again. This time, he denies them the pleasure,

'Have dinner with me?' For a moment, I'm so pleased by his cute grin that I'm ignoring the words that are faling from it.

'We live together, you twit?' I say, laughing.

'Let me _take_ you to dinner?' He corrects, eyeing me nervously. Oh. Dinner. _Dinner_ , dinner.

'Now?' I ask. He smiles, nodding his head. I weakly take another look at my choice of outfit: All black but workable. I've looked far worse on better days. It's just my hair- oh God my hair. 'Fine, but we're walking. And we're _not_ going to Lascada's.'

'Fantastic.' He agrees, his voice cheery like a nursery rhyme. 'My car is at home.'

'It is?'

As we start walking, he offers his hand out for my backpack, sliding it onto his shoulder with ease and taking the same size steps as my feet as if to slow us down even more.

'I ran from ours. Edward had pretty much rammed my car right into the drive and I knew the time he would take to move it again would make me late.'

I raise an eyebrow at him. 'Well, you don't look like you ran?'

Does he ever?

'I've got the collar to prove it.' He grins, and after asking for my hand, he presses it against the bottom of his neck to the slightly damp ends of his hair. Despite the somewhat weirdness of the act, I'm feeling incredibly flattered once more, pinching the ends so that they look like jaggered ends. It's with grat regret I retract m hand.

'So when _did_ you get back?' I quiz him, unable to look away for fear he might just vanish like some kind of mirage.

He holds out the door of the building for us so that the air hits us in a wave. I'm grateful that it's still a little dreary looking but more grateful that it's not raining. We circle past my car in the lot and take a calm walk into town as though we know exactly where we're going though we haven't said anything of the kind.

'Flight got in at two. Edward picked me up at three, so I didn't get home till twenty minutes ago.'

Home sounds so much nicer from his mouth than mine. _Home_. Finally. I think he should stick to being a home doctor, in fact. Making our house into a local surgery or something so that he never has to leave and-. Oh Jesus. That's insane.

'Wait. You got here at two? Then when did-'

He cuts me off with a bigger, more mischievious grin, gleaming his teeth at me because he knows that it will make me laugh.

' _Carlisle_!' I groan, almost, very nearly almost embarrased (though, the pride takes over this time). 'We only got off the phone at eleven?!' And I know for a fact the journey itself takes around 10 hours _with_ the plane ride.

'I know but I had everything packed and I slept on the plane this time. I'm feeling perfectly fine.' But he spots my gawking and rolls his eyes. 'Alright, so I might've booked my flight early.'

'How _early_ , Carlisle?'

'Wednesday morning? I kept an eye on the flight times the moment I landed in Anchorage, but today was the earliest-'

'But what about work? How are they not firing your ass?' I sass, my voice concerned though I'm very aware that not one ounce of guilt would evade my day if he got sacked tomorrow.

He leads me down the posher end of town, one of the ones I would moan about if I wasn't so happy to see him. It's just about getting darker, the street-lamps are switching onto their orange glow and he slows his steps to a restaurant that I feel rather pleased with. It's a popular chain except not one of those whose price-list will blow you out of house and home like _Lascada_. He points to it with a thumb.

'You haven't answered me?' I remind him as he drags me inside, overly charming as ever to anyone in sight.

'I know.' He looks over his shoulder at me, grins again as though it's a permanent feature on his face and then worriedly throws a frown into the mix as he reads my face. I pat my hair down, calming it from the gentle wind and something in my head catches his attention-. Oh shit, the stitches. How could I have been so _stupid_?!

Well…I guess it had to come out sometime. I knew I was going to tell him… Why did it have to be in a moment of genuine happiness, though?! Hurriedly, I brush my hair back over it.

'Carlisle, look-.'

What the fuck am I meant to say _now_? But he smiles encouragingly and pulls my chair out for me. Okay, so maybe Edward's already spoken to him? I fall into it, exhausted, frustrated, irritated and completely besotted by the way he discards of his jacket onto the back of his seat. He's still curious to see what I'm exactly I'm hiding from him but for once, not worried. Good, start off small then.

'It doesn't hurt that bad?' I begin, watching wherever his eyes fall to and for the moment, they seem to be lost in- well… _Me_.

'What doesn't?' He asks, somewhat bemused.

That's a kick in the teeth. Cards out on the table, I guess. Pushing my hair behind my ear, I start again and obviously get interrupted by the spunky new waiter who is all over whatever situation he wants from us.

'Ready to order?' He asks, pointing to the open menus Carlisle has managed to peruse for a few seconds. At the time, food seemed like a great idea, now I am rather wishing we were at home. At the very least, we have privacy there.

So no, I'm not ready to order but fuck it.

'What do you recommend?' I ask. The waiter smiles, probably some college kid a few years younger than me and recites the menu from memory. The first dish that comes out of his mouth, I accept.

'Yeah, that one.'

'Sure?' He asks, maybe surprised by my choice. I'm too focused in my stunt of bravery right now to want to worm myself out of it.

'That and a tap water would be fantastic, thanks.'

Carlisle raises an eyebrow, amused but closes the menu with a flick of his finger and agrees with my decision. 'Er, I'll take the same, please?'

The moment we're alone, I spot a slight blush appearing on his cheeks as he leans close and asks: 'We're not in any rush, are we?'

'I've got to get it out before the guilt kills me.' I rush in, hating whatever stupid decision I was thinking about when I committed myself to keeping my mouth shut. He thanks the waiter for the water and takes a hasty drink.

'So we went out Wednesday night-.' I remind him gently. He suddenly looks largely uncomfortable, his jaw tight though his expression is seemingly empty, waiting with elbows on the table for me to confess to my sins as though I might simply be giving him a grocery list.

Well, here comes the long list.

'We went to that new club? The one around-.' I start weakly, he's dismissing it with a silent nod, an awkward fake smile stuck on his mouth. 'Well, we were all pretty drunk…?'

'I remember.' He says clearly. It makes my stomach drop to my feet.

'So we went to this club and it was pretty busy and- well I was, we were… I don't _know_. I started talking to someone I sort of recognised and I asked him for a drink-'

He breathes out his nose, weirdly pale for someone who blushes at kissing. Oh God.

'Like a _no-strings_ attached drink.' I explain hurriedly. 'I wasn't- I wasn't looking for. Urgh I wasn't _flirting_?'

'It's fine, Esme.'

'No listen to me, I _really_ wasn't. I asked for a drink, he said something and I walked away. I did, I swear.'

'Es, it's fine.' And to prove his trust, he reaches a hand across to where mine is placed onto the table and goes to place a touch against mine but his focus is caught as he gently follows a graze with the tip of his finger. When I nervously spot him through my lashes, I see his eyebrows furrowed as he still looks at the mark.

'...I don't remember much but I _think_ he went to touch me so I pushed him into the bar-.'

If ever I recount this moment in a few years' time, I know he'll deny it but at this split second, he looks genuinely pleased by my sudden violence. This of course soon turns to worry and then concern to th point whre he might just shit himself in panic. Might as well give him something to panic over then. I inhale shakily and talk fast.

'Well lots happened but basically... I kinda...got bottled?' I spurt nervously, his eyes widen as he translates the meaning. 'In the head...' I add quietly. This pushes his composure over the edge.

' _What_?!'

'I don't really-.' I groan. 'It was all so fast and I know they had good intentions but Alice and Rose weren't helping and she was really angry and she just grabbed a bottle-.'

'She? Who's _she_?' he asks desperately, curving his neck to see if he can spot where I've been hit but I hide even more, retreating in my seat.

'Promise me you won't freak out?' I beg him. He's not willing to concede.

'I'm not playing games, Esme. Who was it?' The sharp words of his hit me with a surprising amount of tartness and out of duty, I hang my head a little.

'...Tilly.'

If he could look anymore pale, he would be dead right now. Or maybe just translucent. I've never seen him look so bleak. He puts a curled fist against his mouth as though thinking and inhales.

'And the guy?' He asks, quietly, biting his lip hard as if it is the only way to keep him from saying something regretful. 'You said you knew him?'

'I don't know his name but I've seen him around enough times. He's…well, I think… I think he's my boss's son?'

His eyes fly open, the blue hitting the corner of the table with such an intense scowl-.'I need air.' He chokes.

'Carlisle, _wait_!'

But he's already stood up, hands shaky as his eyes shift around our table. 'Stay here, I'll be right back.'

'Just let me explain!' I beg of him, reaching out to pull him back but he's adamant and pink and I know that at the heart of it all, he's right. He does _need_ air.

'Five minutes!' He hisses. 'Just give me five minutes, _please_. I promise you, I'll be right back.'

But before I have chance to yell or deliberate, he's already moved, passing out back via the smoking area, his hands tightly curled and his jaw locked.

It's funny that after four days of waiting, two weeks almost to kiss me, four years for him to claim some sexuality, that _these_ five minutes are the longest I've ever had to suffer. These five minutes hurt in a way that the various other excuses can't. He's not wanting to hurt me, or wanting me to suffer or even asking much of me. He's in pain, in such a fierce rage as I've never seen him before, way different to all the other frustrations, different even to when he's raging on a murderous rant because this time everything he's feeling has a completely understandable cause. I understand it all.

I do as he asks and wait, my head in hands, the guilt wearing away at my flesh, prodding at the table because there is nothing else to do but as he asks.

'I'm sorry.' He murmurs toughly, standing beside me as though he hasn't moved an inch from my side. I think he feels me jump because he lowers his tone to an even softer murmur after taking my hand gently from the table and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. 'I'm so sorry.'

'You?' I ask ridiculously, my voice almost hysterical. 'If I hadn't of been so stupid- But that doesn't matter now…'

'What about your head? Can I take a look?'

'No.' I say and I'm surprised both by the fact I've said it and that he understands why. 'Maybe later, once you've calmed down.'

'I am calm?' He repeats, pretending to be confused. I open his hand out the table, face down and lay my open palm next to it to compare the grazes. His are obviously newer and he is quick to wipe whatever blood away there might have been but the way he holds it suggest that it'll swell up soon enough. He's staring at them too, his hair curving over like a hidden curtain.

'Snap, I guess.' I say softly

'So what happened? Did anyone see? Are you filing a complaint?'

I want to tell him to stop or roll my eyes but instead I just nod my head. 'I spoke to Charlie yesterday but Edward was annoying me and I ousted Charlie so I could yell at him-.'

'Charlie?' He asks. 'Charlie _Swan_?' And though he seems pleased about this, his face changes, like he's suddenly remembered something bad. I continue.

'There's also this…' and pulling out some paper from my bag, I push the sheets towards him and wait. He has his newspaper face on, reading the lines until he reads the important one. His grip loosens from the edge of the paper and he pulls the sheet down to look at me.

'For real?' He asks, hopefully.

'I have to find another job first but I had a quick look today and there's quite a few kindergarten opportunities.' I follow the rim of my glass and smirk a little. 'Worst case scenario I could always ask for a few extra shifts at-'

'What about the scholarship? You're still applying to that, right?'

'Yes but….' I shrug and scratch my forehead which he manages to understand. Or at least he's happy to put to rest. It's a decision out of my hands.

'Even if you hand it in now.' He starts, already growing excessive in his hope. 'You know that-'

'Yes I _know_ you can support me but it's like taking away my independence!' I pause, waiting for him to empathise. He stays quiet to let me finish. 'I don't want to be running to you every two minutes because I need money for this or money or for that like some sort of Stepford wife. I wouldn't take it from anyone, not even Alice.'

'Can we please put your safety in front of whatever issues you have with your mother? _Please_?' He barks, sounding particularly snarky and amazed, I stare open mouthed at him. He rolls his eyes before swallowing down his temper and starting again in a better approach.

'Can you honestly tell me you're safe-'

'Carlisle!'

' _Honestly_?' He pushes.

'You've just come home.' I beg, exhaustively. 'I don't want to sit and argue with you over _every_ stupid mistake, I make.'

'Es, I spent every minute of the time while I was away regretting getting on the plane. Every minute was dedicated to praying nothing would bad would happen-.'

'Which is why I didn't tell you. You can't handle it when I fuck up and I fuck up _a lot_! I didn't want you locked in a hotel somewhere blaming yourself for my stupidity.'

Hetries to fight this, to sa something equally as defensie but he doesn't want to follow the tense route we've already fallen down. A page that I can agree on.

'I wasn't locked.' He murmurs, the suggestion of a sigh relaxing his expression.

'Can't you see I'm trying to fix things? I phoned Charlie really early this morning to finish my statement and I even went to the shrink who hates me!'

This catches him. 'You saw Doctor Browning?' He asks, curiously.

'I booked an appointment yesterday and saw her this morning. I'll be seeing her next Tuesday where she'll lay me on a couch and hypnotise me to confess said 'mother issues'.' I confess with rolling eyes. But he puts his hand back on the table, pushing the sheet back to me.

' _Really_?'

'Yes, really!' I mutter impatiently but he's looking at me with those gorgeous eyes, his reaction hidden beneath a perfect poker face. ' _Really_.' I promise.

'Well let me in on it? We'll fix things together. Fuck it, we'll go storming into the coffee shop if you let me. Superhero outfits and all!' And though he's still pissed off I'm in love with how he's tried to push this into some positivity. Kinda.

'And you can design the costumes.' He adds with a wink, grabbing his drink and just holding it in his hand while he calculates my expression as if he's ready to cheers me at any moment. I shake my head at him, fighting hard to not laugh but he's such a sweetheart.

'Fine, but you'll be in Lycra.' I warn him. 'And it'll be right up your ass, none of those comfy materials.'

'I can work with that.' He says with a shrug. 'We'll have to have a team name something like the _Cullen clan_ or something.'

'And who made you team-leader?' I tease, raising an index finger to the ceiling.

'Alright what about _the Olympic coven_?' And he wiggles his fingers as though he's some children's show magician.

'You're so lame.' I laugh. 'But it's great to have you home.'

* * *

Despite the fact I didn't really make much effort to order dinner, I'm surprised to find I like it. It's some posh seafood risotto but it's still pretty great and even though he's probably planning on returning to his anger at a later date, it takes the simplest of stories about his week to have us in stitches. I'm nearly finished now, pushing the remnants of food around my plate. That's when he reaches into his pocket and slides something onto the table; a piece of card. He pushes it gently into my eye line me as though pushing a stack of money towards a prostitute, discreetly, embarrassed and now I'm laughing again.

'What's this?' I ask, picking it up and turning it over.

It has his name written in black ink but it's folded. I look at him, wait for his nod and then open it up. The card is heavy in my fingers, and I wonder how much it must have cost to make considering the detailed borders along the outside. It's beautifully printed with the most gorgeous calligraphy in printed letters across the paper. But very posh and very formal with a colour of yellow striking like a religious glow.

'It's my condition.' He says, pushing his plate away and leaning his elbow on the chair. 'I was allowed to leave early providing I attend that next Saturday.'

'Oh.' Then I continue reading: _Formally invited to an evening ball at Eustace Cullen's home; Regent's road, 6:30pm Saturday …_ What?! 'This is _mandatory_?!' I ask in disbelief.

'Yep.' He says, popping the 'P' and scrunching up his nose. He sighs loudly. 'I've got to go anyway for the sake of the new department and his… _fundraising_.' His tone dampens on the word but his smile is still there, even if it's stuck with his mouth on the fork.

I keep listening, resting my elbowsagainst the wood, brows low on my eyes, how _he_ normally wears them.

'Edward's parents will be there so he's going….'

' _Fun_ ,' I murmur with a laugh, turning it over to take in the detail again. Super expensive looking.

'So?' He starts delicately, as patient in his expression as he is with his words. With his first two fingers, he readjusts the collar of his shirt, pulling it up slightly as if to let some air in. I stare for a very long time. To the point that he has to cough and readdress his intention. 'Would you like to come with?'

'To this?' I question, raising the invitation back to him. A fundraising ball? A _ball_? Not exactly my kind of- why is he looking at me like that?

'If you'd like?' It's hard to tell if he's paler or pinker in this light, either way I can see he's uncomfortable.

'Isn't this the sort of thing you'd ask a girlfriend to?' My eyebrow is raised in a moment of suspicion.

'I'm asking _you_.' He clarifies, nodding his head towards me. His hands have suddenly started to intertwine themselves and he focuses on this rather than the return of his answer.

'Like a date?' I say carefully. He hesitates. I'm not entirely sure why but he does and offers an equally nervy look.

'Also known as a plus one?'

'Carlisle?'

He swallows, adding a tense smile as though we're discussing nuclear war rather than a simple party.

'Is _this_ a date?' I ask, gesturing to the space around us. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, his smile crumbles into an awkward wry smile of embarrassment.

'Would you like it to be?'

'No.' I tell him honestly. To start with I don't even want to begin with the state of my hair... 'So a _ball_?'

'I would understand if you'd rather decline?' He says softly and I suddenly remember that this is another really new thing for him; Dealing with family issues. Asking for back-up. All that stuff. With a hand, he brushes away a waved lock of hair from his eyes and combs it back for something to do. '...Especially considering he's asked for Edward and I to attend dinner with the Masen's at four.'

'Is the ball not a dinner then?' I ask, smiling at my ignorance. He shakes his head, just by an inch.

'Not quite.' He informs and I'm grateful he doesn't make me feel like a twit in the way he answers.

'Are you going to go to dinner?'

He looks momentarily frustrated as if he wants to say no but responsibility takes over preference. 'Yes.' He sighs. 'Yeah, I'll be attending.'

'Are you nervous?' I ask, my voice soft again. He smiles, but looks at a space in the wall behind my head before nodding absently.

'I've past the last two years without having to speak to him. I'm concerned how badly this event could go for us…' It's easy to hear that _us_ , regarded the state of his position within the hospital and further than that, the very reputation of the hospital itself.

'He's a member of the community just as you are Carlisle. Destroying your career won't help him in anyway.'

'Perhaps it provides an ego boost? Especially if I'm the one who has to help encourage it…'

'Yes.'

He nods, agreeing, rolling his brightly blue eyes.

' _Yes_.' I repeat to him. He looks up from his plate and furrows his eyebrows, I groan, playfully. ' _Yes_ , I would love to be your date.'

'Wait-. _Really_?'

'Sure, I'll pack the costumes.' And just to boost his confidence a little, I grin widely at him. 'You know I love a good dance. It sounds like fun!'

It doesnt sound like fun, it sounds like a disaster but I have every responsibility to go down with him. At the very least, I _want_ to.

'I was convinced you were going to say no.' He beams at me, looking away briefly before shaking his head in disbelief.

'Because your father's a creep?' I guess, he laughs at this in his casual flowing manner, no hint of malice or concern to his thoughts.

'Essentially.' He agrees, nodding.

'Well, I can promise you that I'll only be sticking to _one_ Cullen.'

He smirks, so that it crinkles his eyes slightly but the smirk turns to an uncomfortable sigh and within moments he's frowning, his lips a tough line and his expression guilty.

'Esme,' he begins awkwardly. 'I think I need to tell-'

But we're both suddenly interrupted by the same waiter who is waving dessert menus in our faces and clearing up our plates. He's talking very fast, and in the complete opposite tone of how Carlisle began but he hides under the interruption.

'I actually think the bill will be perfectly fine thanks.' I say but I catch Carlisle's face and smile, he nods in agreement.

Though he protests and by protests, I mean turns into a right little bitch about it all, I pay for dinner before he has a chance to, tipping the waiter and standing to take our leave.

'But I said _I_ was going to take _you_ to dinner.' He complains once we're back outside. It's colder now but a soothing cold and once he helps me get my coat on, I realise how cosy it actually is with a breeze in the air.

'You can take me to dinner another time. Consider it an apology for the slight lie about-' And I comically point to my head. This reminds him of the offending mark and he angles himself as though to look at it but I move and this brings up back to the present.

He's looking far guiltier now I've said this.

'How about a walk?' I suggest.

'Where to? The beach?'

I nod. 'It's quite nice out and it's not late. Besides I haven't seen you in ages, I don't think I'm ready quite yet to have to share you with Edward.'

As I speak, his face changes. Not because of the light which has accentuated the grievance in his mystery but rather because he seems to be pleased by this sentence. I point to the way I want to walk down and stand close to his left side. As we walk, he gently pulls my back pack from me and slips it onto his shoulders again in complete disregard to the style or the dark flowery pattern.

'Es…' he mumbles difficulty, once we've walked a fair bit in silence. My eyes are focused on the sidewalk as we follow our inner-compass. 'Why did you tell Edward you asked me out?'

I never noticed how juvenile it sounded until now. He's frowning, but also smiling and I don't know what one to trust. For now, my chest feels awkwardly tight again like if I try and speak it'll be really squeaky and he'll laugh at me. I sigh so that it comes out in a gust of wind from my lips. I should've expected this to happen but still, the obvious betrayal from Edward irritates me. Why did his need to know everything outweigh his need to keep his mouth shut?! Especially because it's now made the space between Carlisle and I even less stable than it had been.

'Because I did...' I reply. He stares at the walk ahead of us, an eyebrow raised and pouting. Then he looks at me.

'You asked for coffee.' He corrects, a displeased tone to his voice.

I stare hard at his jaw for an excuse to focus my attention from not being hurt. Or pissed off. Or both.

'No, I asked for coffee _twice_. On the third time, I asked for a date.'

'I don't remember that.' He murmurs guiltily, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet. 'I only remember declining the coffee because I hated it then.'

He still hates it now.

'Okay, Sex Ed 401: When a girl invites you for coffee, it's never _just_ coffee.' I explain but the smile he returns is a vacant one and completely erases my teasing grin.

'Is that what you were asking for four years ago? Sex?'

What is with this man speaking before _thinking_!

'Jesus, Carlisle! Of course not. I'd just moved from a farm where I'd sacrificed six years of my life to an absolute dick-head. On-top of the weight of killing my dad!'

'You didn't kill him.' He intervenes, frowning. There is something about the way he says it which suggests this wasn't the most important thing he wanted to answer. But I intervene before he has a chance.

'Like every other sad student, I was lonely. I was looking for a friend, any friend. A friend you have coffee with. Even if you were pretty stand-offish at first.'

'I brought you coffee everyday?' He alters, confused as if this completely evades the fact that he spent our first year so self-involved he struggled to remember my name.

'After declining my offers. And yeah, you brought coffee, you gave me the coffee, and you left without saying another word.' He looks even more embarrassed than he was before, maybe worse than he did in the restaurant. 'Sure, you were always cute but it took like four months for you to even talk to me.'

'Was this during the holidays?' He guesses, struggling to grasp the memory and simply shoehorning a guess in for a little bit of hope. From the corner of my eye, I catch him pink in the cheeks and not because of the wind.

'It'd been snowing, your heating had cut out... We were literally the only two in the common room?' I remind him, trying to hide the hurt behind my smile. Though his determination in trying to picture it is at least amending my initial displeasure.

'What did we talk about?'

'You were studying.' I recall.

'And you asked me out?' He assumes, disbelievingly. He's wrong anyway which is just as irritating.

'The fact you don't remember, Carlisle proves how bad it went, doesn't it?'

He shies away from the comment, smiling but more out of guilt. He's trying furiously to remember the day, plucking things out of thin air until finally-.

'You were having an argument with your brother, right?' His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes pinched closed as he thinks about the scene in his head.

I finally grin, nodding enthusiastically. I'd been sat at one end of the room, furiously yelling back into the phone as Rich tried to argue his point. Carlisle had been sat in the other corner, very much focused until my fury had interrupted him.

'That was it!' I commend him. 'I don't remember what the arguing was about but it's how we struck up a conversation on work commitments.'

'See? I _do_ remember! It's just so buried under all this stupid-' He holds his hand to his hair and shakes his head for an answer.

'You still don't remember.' I realise, rolling my eyes. He looks sheepish.

'I remember the holidays. I remember being in the common room with you up until Christmas Eve but I don't remember you ever asking me for a date?'

'Explains a lot.' I say with a delicate nod, smirking. 'Because I asked you out on January the 1st.'

'You _couldn't_ have?'

'Carlisle, I distinctly remember using the 'New-Year-New-Start' bullshit and asking if you would go on a date with me.'

He's silent for a long time and when I turn I realise he's looking out in front of him in horror.

'I'm so sorry…'

'What? What for?' I say, easing his concern with a laugh. A sharp one at that.

'I did. I declined, I remember now.'

I think we've reached an impasse because there's nothing that I want him to add to this sentence or anything more he can add without embarrassing the both of us. We've been walking longer than it feels like and have finally reached the start of the beach. He kicks up a few stones with the toe of his shoe before turning to me and sighing.

I drop to my butt on the sand, grinning despite his awkward expression and reach my hand up to him. He frowns but reaches out and touches his non-bruised hand with mine, lining our fingers together. I grasp them and roughly yank him down to the space beside me.

Once he's curled next to me, I grab a hold of his shirt buttons to pull him to me by way of forgiveness. I do as he would, asking with the raise of an eyebrow and at his consent, I kiss him as sweetly and as reservedly as I can manage. Despite his dire look of frustration, he still manages to forget himself, help for me to forget myself and melt around me. He takes my face into his hands, kissing me back far more passionately than I would've expected considering his sudden misery but he cuts himself off abruptly, looking furious with himself.

'Esme- there's something I _really_ need to explain to you…'


	36. Reasons why its a question of faith

_**Thank you so much for your amazing reviews! Please do not fear the word count as I keep doing. I'm convinced it's still lying. Nevertheless, here is the start of many revelations... and perhaps some new beginnings, too!**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy! Please R &R! Thank you!**_

* * *

Needs to _explain_ to me? I lean away from him, raising my hand to my warm mouth as if to question my rashness but he smiles weakly at me and inhales.

'What about?' I ask carefully, frowning.

His expression is far worse than whatever he might have to say. Or that's what I'm telling myself because I am not ready to hear Alice's ' _I told you so'_ run through my head. He goes to reply, starts to speak before hesitating and lies on his back. I stay very still. He opens up his right arm, looking at me carefully before smiling one-sided.

'There's almost too much to-.' He stops again to test out his nerves. They're making his words tremble and I know he's not comfortable with it. 'I think I need to go back a bit…' The smile does it. I trust that more than any other impression he's giving so I lie back, too, head turned towards him.

'Do you remember when we were hiking last week and we were talking about-'

'Edward?' I offer.

'No. We were discussing-'

'Sex? Languages?' I continue to guess.

'Es, _please_. Let me finish?'

I smile wryly, shrinking from him but he laughs gently and inhales.

'My father and I travelled a lot when I was young, mainly for educational purposes. He was a pastor and worked to… _enslave_ people into the concept of religion…'

'But you're a Christian?' I say, confused. This is one of the first conversations I know we _did_ discuss early on. I shake my hair out a little, shifting my shoulder underneath his arm. He's taking his time to plan his narrative.

'I am.' And he almost looks like he wants to say more. 'As I told you, we travelled around until I was about six- where we came to Italy. It's difficult to explain but where we lived... I guess it was like a devout church that also ran as a business?'

Being unaware of the path he's leading me down allows me to smile supportively, absently touching his knuckles and checking for damage. He shows no discomfort and little regard to the marks along his skin as he opens up his hand, allowing me to warm it between both my palms.

'Essentially it was this beautiful cluster of buildings closed to the public on the outskirts of a city called _Volterra_. My father worked with the brothers who ran it and they struck up some sort of alliance. One that I was kept hidden from...'

I nod, huddling close again not due to the cold but because his tone is soothing and informative and he's gentle with what he's telling me.

'Where I lived was very strictly catholic. I grew up in what we referred to as the _West-Wing_ which was a block where women were forbidden. It was beautiful though, loads of art-pieces and in every place you looked.'

'It sounds incredible.' I murmur. His eyes crinkle a little and on my encouragement, he gently squeezes his grip in a vague answer.

'He worked pretty much from the morning to evening six days a week. I only really saw him at communal dinners and on Sundays. And the rare occasions he was in his office, which wasn't much.'

'So you've always been pretty distant?' I assume, guessing that here might be his point. He nods.

'Close to where our rooms were was a huge swimming pool. Serene and closed to the public. Being the only child on site, I was left to amuse myself and was permitted use of it on the strict reminder to be careful; There was no one around to keep an eye on me. It was quite deep. On the bottom there was a beautiful mosaic of the Virgin Mary which was always difficult to see properly.'

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

'This might sound irrelevant but I promise I have a point.' He murmurs, his words little more than an amused whisper.

'I'm listening, Carlisle.'

'Okay, good. So this swimming pool was huge and completely empty but according to what I was told, and some very believable written accounts, I was lead to believe that the water had been blessed. To swim in it while clothed was an act of defilement. You understand?'

'Continue.' I encourage.

'So from the age six to thirteen I swam in the nude. Clothes were forbidden within the room and because it was empty, I had no qualms about using it daily. A few weeks after our arrival, once we were settled, I was given a few responsibilities to undertake, like chores really. The West-wing was the accommodation for the clergy and they often had a lot of gear to put on, various flowing garments which were tricky to tie and adjust. We lived by very old standards.'

'So it was like proper medieval monk stuff? No television or anything?'

He looks as if he might want to prove he's amused but his speed he picks up serves to prove how fleeting his thinking is. Nevertheless, he smiles.

'My point, exactly. We _did_ have a television but it was situated in the communal quarters and only broadcast the news. The city was _very_ old fashioned. The books in the library were either old folios or religious material that had been specially censored by the Brothers. My lessons were the same. The reason I'm more fluent in Latin is because that's what we spoke. We did mathematics and history and such but science was- well I'll come to that…' He breaks off gently to let me speak.

'You make it sound like you grew up in a cult.' I tease awkwardly, laughing just so. He tilts his face towards me, very still, his blue eyes so rich in information and-.

'Oh, 'I utter. But he hurries along.

'So I was sort of like a 'court dresser'. I'd wake in the mornings, swim, dress our _neighbours_ and attend lessons. This being followed by dinner in the hall, prayers, work, sleep then the same cycle the next day. That's how it ran for years.'

The stones I'm leaning on are typically very uncomfortable but the sand is helping to cushion from of the pain. Opposingly, he seems as relaxed as he would be on a bed. He's speaking over the sea air without having to raise his voice. He's gentle and careful but his expression is determined.

'By the time I was eight, I knew the city inside out and excusing one of the Dining Staff who I occasionally spoke with and perhaps Elizabeth Masen, I hadn't met a girl in years. Especially not one of my own age. Even in the literature we read, there was more emphasis on the likes of _purity_ than on procreation.' He pauses momentarily to look at me, semi-shy before asking: 'Are you getting the image I'm trying to show you?'

'Super heavy.' I confirm. He smirks and returns naturally.

'Like I was saying with the swimming pool: The mosaic when you looked at it from the top was all distorted and I assumed the only way you could see it is if you swam right to the very bottom of the pool. I was an ambitious nine year-old and planned to catch a real look of it.'

'How deep was it?' I ask, apologetic for the interruption. He doesn't seem to mind. He squints, pressing his free hand to his forehead to think.

'About three to three and a half metres down perhaps?' He sees my eyes enlarge. 'I know- I was very stupid.'

'You could've been killed!'

He nods his head. 'I was convinced I'd _trained_ myself enough to achieve it…'

'And?!' I ask, panicked.

'Chill, Es. I'm here, aren't I?'

'What happened?' I encourage, gently pressing into his chest with our interlocked hold. He looks at it, waits and lays his head back to stare at the surrounding dark.

'I passed out before getting to the bottom.' He murmurs, adjusting himself so that I can lay more comfortably. 'But when I awoke, I was surrounded by three to four of the men I dressed on a regular basis, barely breathing.'

'It was lucky they found you.' I remind him breathlessly and then I remember that he would've probably been mortified at the exposure. 'Even if it _was_ embarrassing.'

He winces slightly, I feel it under my body, his instant reaction to guard himself before forcing composure.

'See, every morning when I swam I used to go for about an hour at least. Guessing from memory, the morning I'd decided to go diving, I'd undressed, jumped into the water and probably passed out within five to six minutes. An adult, if lucky, has around twelve minutes of air in their lungs when knocked unconscious.' He pauses to allow me to make a show of my confusion. 'I was nine, under water and most probably panicked once I realised I couldn't breathe.'

'So someone else decided to join you?' I assume, my cheek pressing against his shoulder, close to his face. He seems weirdly familiar with the space, like he might curl an arm around me to secure me there. He doesn't break our hands apart.

'As far as I was aware, not really... It was a private pool and in the three years that I'd lived there, I'd never seen another soul use it. Let alone approach the room. Needless to say I moved on and once I'd gained my trust enough to go swimming again, aged ten this time, I decided I would try again to reach the bottom. Being older and wiser and all that.' He adds playfully. He breathes in,not on purpose but maybe to emphasise a point he doesn't yet want to say. 'As you may assume, I passed out again and woke up a little while later: exposed and surrounded by the same men from last time. I was scolded, reminded to be careful and stayed away for an even longer period.'

'You don't-.' I cut myself off. 'If this is uncomfortable for you, you don't need to tell me...'

'Would you like me to stop?' He asks and once more, he's genuinely concerned for how _I'm_ feeling. I shake my head.

'No but I understand if _you_ wouldn't want to-' I start to say. He cuts me off delicately.

'At the very least, I am positive this will explain many of our past misconceptions? I'm also hoping that it means that… we won't be what we _were_?'

'What do you mean?' I ask him, naturally cautious.

'Well… I guess apart of knowing someone is knowing their past?'

'If Edward's said the same _bullshit_ -' but he interrupts my cursing with a gentle laugh, turning slightly to press a cold and unexpected kiss my forehead. It makes me shiver. Only because I want another one. I want to hold him tighter and kiss him and make him feel relaxed.

'But he _is_ right…' He says.

'I hate that.'

'Me too.' He agrees but he works to amend the target of my death sentences. 'But- I _want_ you to hear this. If you'd like, I mean... I want to explain myself?'

'Carlisle, you don't have to explain anything.'

'I know.' He murmurs. 'I think that's what makes talking to you so easy. It's never _just_ a case of need. I always _want_ to talk to you.'

'Does Edward know about _this_?' I inquire warily. 'Is this why he's been on my back?'

Carlisle shakes his head, his thick hair slipping behind him and grinding into the sand as he sighs again. 'Not all of it. Though I wouldn't be surprised if Elizabeth has informed all she knows.'

'Oh...I almost forgot about them.' I admit, guiltily. He doesn't seem fazed as proven by his smile.

'The only friend I had was four years younger, forbidden to enter my home and I only saw him in the summer.'

'But then-'

'Would you like me to continue?' He guesses. I nod, emphatically.

'I think you need to.'

'So well-after the second time, I tried again. I was suspicious and couldn't understand how after everyone's denial, I was still _so_ quick to be rescued. So after my third attempt they took me straight to Aro, who was kind of like my father's boss. I woke up this time in the hall where a great panic had ensued because of the water in my lungs. Of course, the men accused me of trying to kill myself, a huge fuss was made and Aro sent me to my father who was equally as furious.'

'Wait? Isn't suicide a sin in some-?' I begin to say but I feel his body move in the affirmative. _Feel_ it.

'My father went nuts, banned me from swimming and for punishment, I missed a few weeks of school and worked day and night as an assistant to the court. I tried to explain myself. It didn't work and I was soon getting hourly gruellings from every priest on sight. One evening, I was helping one of our neighbours by writing up a few sermons with him from some old anthologies. As I opened one book in particular several Polaroid's fell out of the pages. I can't say for sure who they were of, but as I was the only child on site and at that, the only _blonde_ child-.' He stops when he sees my face. 'Do you need a minute?'

I nod, pulling myself up out of his space to put my hand over my mouth. To crave the isolation and curse his ease at the relaying of information. He follows, pulling himself up so that he's opposite me, watching concerned with a detatched hand on my shoulder, his knees bent but supporting mine.

'How old were you?' I choke out weakly, feeling even more nauseas with the smell of sea water stinging my nose. His expression manages to secure my worst fears- that they weren't innocent photos.

'About Eleven.' He reminds me, quietly.

'And the photos?' I gasp. He pulls his jacket off his shoulders and wraps it around me, zipping it up with a two steady hands and not flinching from his exposure.

'Take a few moments.' He encourages, and it's exactly how he might offer advice to his patients; as warm and as considerate.

So I do. I take many moments, angry, disgusted, frightened moments and then I see his face. He's perfectly calm, the sea of blue far more calm than the waves across from us. Both waves are useful and I practice losing my breath to them, hearing the roar in my ears and matching it with an exhale.

'Okay.'

'Sure?' He asks. He's now only in a blue button up, my bag positioned like a pillow for his head and his stubble even darker than it looked earlier. He waits for me to nod before starting again.

'I'm not sure about the photos. I only saw one or two at a glimpse. The moment they fell out, I was sent away. Anyway, this was one of the rare occasions my father was in his office. I went running to him to try and explain what I had seen and he was very defensive. I think more out of fear for what it meant for us. Not that I knew, but he was making a lot of money and very comfortably and although he morally sided with me, or that's what I like to hope, he decided the risks were too great.'

'The fuck?!' I enunciate but this is a matter he doesn't want to wait on.

'So I got to thirteen, _somehow_ , and worked hard enough to be granted permission to swim again.'

'Did you _actually_ take it up?'

'I decided that I couldn't cope with the guilt of suspicion that surrounded my every survival from drowning. I'd quite forgotten about the mosaic on the fourth time round and decided not to undress. I passed _no one_ on my way there, there was _no one_ in the room and yet I was seconds from diving into the water when 'security' found me and sent me straight to the boss.'

'Again?' I ask. He assumes I mean 'sent to the boss' but I actually mean trying to swim. It's raising a few flares of concern but he's calm and I don't want to destabilise this.

'I tried to argue that the water was colder than usual but they knew I no longer trusted them and we agreed that I wouldn't step foot in the pool again. But I no longer had to help people get dressed. I was hitting puberty anyway, I was taller and instead, I was allowed to work closely alongside Aro on his accounts.'

'And that was the end of it? What about the Masen's? What about _anybody_? What about _you_?'

'Well, that's a slightly different story. I officially met the Masen's back in France when I was three and then again in Spain during the summers until they came to visit in Italy. It started as a friendship I think, maybe a bit of friendly anxiety from Elizabeth but I got the impression that my father and Edward's were working together. Mr Masen is a lawyer, a renowned and very clever man who was defending the business against some claims that another business associate had made on account of corruption.'

'I'm lost.' I admit, guiltily.

He smiles apologetically, his free hand fiddling with a stone while the other stays outstretched. I haven't been brave enough to lie against him again so I just lean at an angle towards his torso. As though a shield to the water.

'Edward senior was sent by his firm to question character profiles. Elizabeth had a bit of work as a travel writer I think, and at the point that I'd met her, I hadn't really seen a mother figure in years. Our fathers got along, on a case of political debate and business schemes I think, but Elizabeth was very musically minded and my father thought it good that I pick up lessons. So for the few weeks they visited in the summer I was allowed to stay with them and practice music. It was great fun and when I didn't see them, Elizabeth always kept in contact. It's part of their influence I am where I stand now. At thirteen, I decided I wanted to attend a local school. My father refused and gave a list of absurd reasons why; the usual moral corruption argument and I voiced the same preference to them. With their help, we managed to persuade my father I was missing out on an official education, which was needed if he wanted me to follow in his footsteps as a pastor. Probably due to the fact he was uncomfortable with my ability to find trouble, he agreed to let me attend the catholic school.'

'You got your way?' I say, amazed.

'To _some_ extent.' He murmurs, sounding sharp. 'The difference in curriculum still caused a rift at home. Several arguments broke out because of it. Stupid things like how I'd taken a fervent interest in science. He was disgusted and planned to reenlist me at home so that I couldn't be ' _corrupted_ ' any further. Aro tried to calm him but- well, I didn't help myself. I went to a boy's school and though a lot of them were from the same strict background I was, others weren't. We'd been doing a lot of sculpture work and my book had been mixed up with another students who'd…embellished his portrait of a nude Mary Magdalene. I don't think I heard the end of it for the rest of the _year_.' He laughs as though it's a fond memory but I'm desperate to reach out to comfort him. 'You remember I said I was brought up on the expectation that I would be ' _pure_ '?'

I nod encouragingly, too captured in his narrative to want to speak.

'Well. That went under negotiation. Aro struck up a deal with my father and rather begrudgingly, he accepted in an attempt to halt any further trouble.'

'Meaning?' I ask. He breathes in again, his chest full of air that he slowly lets out through his nose.

'Please believe me that had I realised the importance of the next sentence, I would've mentioned it before?'

I watch him, carefully, once more concerned. He continues as though he might be discussing someone else.

'The girl I was ' _close'_ to as a teenager; Chelsea ...Well, she was the niece of Aro. He encouraged me to help tutor her and once we became friends, a deal was struck between Marcus and my father that once I was of age…we would be married...'

' _WHAT_?'

He nods, carefully.

'You were _engaged_?!' I demand, verging on hysterical.

He nods again. 'When I said I was _close_ to someone, she was the closest I had to a girlfriend- realistically-'

'Girlfriend? She was your _fiancée_! Jesus, how _old_ were you when this was arranged?!' I can't curb the bitchy tone to my voice though I try to reign it in. He continues despite it.

'Fourteen. She was older by maybe a year or so. My father seemed satisfied by the union but as time went on, changed his mind. Eventually we were moved closer to the centre of the building and though I worked incredibly close with the brothers, we were still quite miserable. Since joining the court my father had taken a vow of chastity, and I can only assume he was somewhat… _lonely_. Cut to fifteen years of age, technically a year or so away from marriage and I'd left the room for a moment-. The rest you know.'

'Wait, hold on- your father after committing himself to ' _purity_ ', slept with your _fiancée_?!' I ask in disbelief. Carlisle smirks.

'As hard as it is to hear, please remember that my definition of fiancée was different to how you know it. I didn't learn anything about the anatomy until I was seventeen. I had no clue on sex apart…'

'But- _but_?!' Words are failing me.

'As you might have guessed- _huge_ scandal. I took the opportunity to dive into my acting skills and tried to convince my father to leave. He'd put across this big act of self-sacrifice. He said something like, because I can't procreate, I would be needlessly having sex and having sex not for the purposes of pro-creation was a sin. The matter of my sterilisation he claimed was proof of purity and he wanted me to stick to that.'

'I am so lost by this Nut-job!' I admit, furiously.

'There were many other ideas as well. He claimed that because the wedding wasn't too long away, he planned to impregnate her before we married and then I could say the child was my own. That one didn't pass as well.'

'What?' I repeat for the third time.

'It's very complicated.' He agrees. 'But it was the excuse I had been looking for and I begged for him to leave. He refused and in a moment of revenge, I trashed the shared library meaning that I pulled as many books as I could from the shelves.'

'Hence the temper, right?' Though as much as it guilts me to think it, I'm suspicious of his cautious response to this.

'As I was trashing the books, one in particular fell from the shelves and with it a series of photographs fell out. I realised then I couldn't stay there...'

'It wasn't-' I start to say. It's easy to see by his face that we're not discussing just some simple portrait picture. My stomach lurches again.

'I suspect it was.' He answers. 'So I went to Aro and gave a diabolical speech about the people I was going to contact with such a scandal in a holy place. Their _second_ scandal in a matter of weeks.'

'Wait, you _confronted_ them?'

'I did. They obviously denied it all so I saved money, I kept a front and the moment I'd had enough to pay for it, I ran to the Masen's. Luckily, they'd spent the last six years in Illinois and considered it their permanent residence.'

At sixteen years old, running away, moving country. I shudder.

'Es, have you never wondered how I've been able to afford so much?' His sudden call of my name brings me right back to the present and staring sympathetically at him, I shake my head.

'I kinda just assumed you worked all your life.' I muse, lifting up a shoulder. He smiles though I'm not sure why.

'Even though I've brought my own house? And a car?'

'I've never really thought of it.' I explain, biting my lip. 'I assumed it was on credit?'

He shakes his head. 'I know it's crass to talk about figures so I won't do that but I will say there is such a big reason why I'm more than comfortable in supporting you and Edward if he needed it.'

It takes a while. Perhaps longer in his eyes but with the state of ignorance so vulnerable anyway, the realisation drops thick lumps of ice down my spine as if I'm paralysed. He keeps his focus on his hands for the moment, giving me the time to understand it all for myself.

'Because it's _their_ money?' I guess and the thought makes me turn green, my full stomach twisting and turning in disgust. He nods.

'Mr Masen obviously helped with it all but we sued them was awarded more than expected. It also explains why Elizabeth had a few understandings of what had gone on.'

'You _sued_ them?' I repeat, frowning. He knows what's coming because he hasn't got such a look of pride that he'd been planning to use, he's reserved.

'Pretty much. It's probably half the reason why my father and I don't get along, still.'

'But by accepting their money- they can't be criminally charged, right?' I assume, furious, my hands knotting themselves in the jacket around my coat. I wrap them tighter.

'Technically but since I've left so have many other employees and there's a strict rule now that no children are allowed within-'

'So they get _away_ with it?' I demand, realising that my voice is a lot harder than I wanted it to be.

'...Well… not _exactly_?' He protests gently but it's deliberately futile.

'But they do!' Suddenly I realise I'm hysterical. 'They _knew_ , they all knew and they think throwing money at you serves justice?'

'Hon, it's okay-' He soothes, a gentle grimace on his mouth.

'Don't tell me its okay! It's _not_ okay! This is _not_ okay! They've got their freedom, they're making a profit from the damage-' The more I speak, the louder I become until sounds and words are tripping from my throat into the space around us, rushed and angry.

'Esme, look at me?'

'Can't you see how _horrific_ this is?! Look what they're taking from you, Carlisle! Look at-.'

Despite the fact I've found myself on my feet, red, overheated, furious, I also find that Carlisle is unnaturally calm as he sits by me. He touches my ankle softly to ask for my attention and once I turn, catches my hand to pull me close to him again. Just how I did with him.

'Why are you _okay_ with this?' I growl emotively and at the yelling, I find I'm even more devastated than angry. Especially now, looking into his face. He pulls me close to him and I'm so mad, so frustrated, so disgusted and upset for him that it happens without control.

He offers a gentle frown, wiping an angry tear away from my face before pulling me into the crook of neck and letting me hold onto him. I hate it. I hate the fact that I'm just this emotional mess and I hate the fact that I've crumbled even worse than that but he soothes me warmly, murmuring over and over again how ' _it's going to be okay_ ' when I know that for him, it's not. It's wrong. In all aspects it's incredibly and morally and ethically wrong.

And they get away with it.

After several moments more of my trembling, of crushing him to me and not wanting to have to let him go, I pull myself away to breathe. It's an attempt to gather composure but it's pathetic and useless. He waits, as patient as ever, as calm as always and compassionate and decided and thoughtful.

'I'm sorry.' I murmur miserably, lifting my face to take in his expression. He's even more relaxed than I think I've seen him these last two weeks. He waves both hands to the side of my face super gentle as he holds our gazes together.

'Now, I mean this with the least amount of malice but- Can you see why I can't bear to see you work at that stupid fucking coffee house?' He murmurs and several more shudders of realisation pour over my shoulders. 'I'm not willing to let you suffer in the name of independence. Any harm that comes to you-.'

'It's not the same, Carlisle. It doesn't even equate-' I stammer, snivelling.

'You're right. It's not the same because I'm not going to let it be. Taking his money is not the same as taking their worth.' He brushes his thumb across my cheeks once more to dry up any remaining tears, his touch soft but his whole presence softer. 'I won't let you be hurt. I can't. I never could risk hurting you with something I might unknowingly do and that includes this. I can't think of you being harmed and I couldn't then.' He takes a deep breath, blinking open his eyes thoughtfully. 'You have no idea of the priviledge you give me just from _knowing_ you.'

' _Knowing_ me?' I stutter. He lowers his left hand from my cheek to hold my hand. He plays with it, interlocking the fingers until he pulls, and therefore me, until I'm holding his heartbeat, feeling the gentle rush of heat tingle my fingertips as the pulse beats under my palm.

'There are no appropriate words to explain how I feel with you. More so in the last few years and more so now. Everything is just so intense, whether I'm furious or sick with worry or pleased or nervous or-'

'Passionate?' I offer. His dark blue eyes lower to where our hands are and then back to my face, his own cheeks pink.

'After all that...' He begins awkwardly, but grinning nevertheless. 'And all these truths coming to light- I'm quite embarrassed. So if it's okay with you- I'd quite like to kiss you now and hope I don't look like such a twit?'

There's something about the way he kisses me this time which is completely different to every other snog. He's simple in his approach but his silk lips collide with mine with such surety that I lose myself to him. The nervous excitement that normally tumbles from his mouth to mine, or the juvenile questioning evolves into desire. He's as committed to the movement as I am to the moment and though I'm as excited as I always am when he kisses me, this time it feels so much steadier.

He's so beautifully delicate, the same fresh cologne flooding through my nerves and because the separation is causing me heart ache, I embed my hands tightly into his thick hair, dragging him closer. I lean into him as demanding as he does to me and I shuffle forward, hesitating by his knees. He senses my caution and with a slight chuckle against my lips, he lets his left hand rest in the crook of my knee before, with a gentle and focused sense of attention, tenderly pulling me onto him with my knees resting either side of his hips.

He kisses me harder, our breaths tumbling together, his hand offering a guiding support to my thighs until his hot tongues Tasers my own. I think he feels me jump, because both thumbs brush reassuring circles into my skin while I pull myself closer to him, needing more.

He's not as shy but he is still polite waiting graciously to feel confident with my encouragements before sliding his taste buds to mine again. He has to feel the way I whine for him. Even if he can't hear it. Both hands move across his jacket, resting on the small of my back as I arch myself to him. He's warmer than ever before, making me writhe against him without anything more than his breath on mine. His hands come up, stopping at my ribs before he crosses his arms around me, hugging me to him.

There's a tough sound, like he's clearing his throat as he guides us back to the pebbles. His lips are still tort against mine, moving life into me, striking a need and not caring about how tightly I tie to myself to him, his hair fisted within my grip.

' _Excuse_ me?'

We both gasp, jumping up away from each other to the figure in front of us.

'Oh for God's _sake_.' The figure mutters fiercely and with a blush of utter mortification on my face, I struggle out of Carlisle's lap. 'Doctor Cullen…' Charlie begins, clearly furious on one hand but also somewhat in disbelief in the other as he stares at the both of us from a few steps away.

Carlisle stands up and helps me to my feet with a gentle tug on my hand. Unlike usual he isn't smirking or trying not to smirk, he's staying very mature and apart from how he holds me slightly behind him, I would say there's nothing about him which suggested self-sacrifice.

'Evening, Sir.' He greets formally, nodding his head towards him though he's clearly not impressed by it.

Charlie pushes a fisted hand to his mouth, shaking his head from side to side before taking a breath in. 'We received a phone call-.'

'We understand, Sir. We were on our way?' I try to say but he just simply returns a questioning look before resting a hand into his thick curly hair.

'And it looked as so, Miss Platt. We received a phone call to say-.'

'We're very sorry.' Carlisle intervenes quickly, his face still reserved and far less pink than my own.

'Really, Doctor Cullen. You should know better. At the very least the risk of hypothermia in this cold-.'

I'm clearly not aware this isn't a joke. I see his response to my gentle chuckle.

'We weren't doing anything though?' I begin shyly. Carlisle briefly looks like he want to smirk but decides against it by watching me, his eyes alight. 'We're fully clothed?' I add rather foolishly.

'Did you know it's an offence to-'

'Yes, Sir.' We both say simultaneously.

'You kids. You realise there's hotel rooms for this _exact_ reason? To avoid such acts. Besides, do you know how dangerous it is for you to be out here at this time? Who knows-'

'We're very sorry.' Carlisle says again, hand intertwined with my own as sweetly as his lips would be.

'Where is your car?'

'Campus parking lot.' I tell him, offering a smile. He looks too tired to want to deal with it but rolls his eyes and points behind him.

'I'll give you a lift, then.'

'Oh, you don't have to do that Officer Swan-' Having spotted his expression also, Carlisle changes his tone to that of a much respected surgeon. 'Really can't thank you enough.'

'How about stop committing public offences?' Charlie mutters under his breath

'Yes, Sir.'

* * *

We walk steadily to where Charlie is parked and much to my mortification, it's the police vehicle. Carlisle opens the door for me, quiet still before he settles himself in the back next to me. From out the window, Charlie murmurs something into the radio on his shoulder, hand balanced on the roof of the car with his eyes squinted. I hadn't realised how late it was, even with the dark around us and squinting at the clock on the dashboard, I'm annoyed by the fact it's technically Saturday.

I turn to Carlisle and sigh. 'There's still so much I want to say to you. So much that needs saying but-'

He reaches over to ask for the hand that's in my lap. I pass it to him, relishing the way he locks his fingers around mine, bridges the gap and rubs along my thumb soothingly. Officer Swan, as I should be calling him now he's in uniform, falls into his seat at the front, mumbling a few curses under his breath before turning on the engine.

'Enjoy your week away?' He murmurs and it takes me a moment to realise he's talking to Carlisle. He leans forward, testing the restraint of the seat buckle as he speaks.

'It was very informative, thanks, Sir. I've been asked to attend the fundraiser next Saturday because of it. Don't suppose we'll see you there?'

He shakes his head. 'I doubt it. Not really my type of appearance.'

'But you're the chief of police.' I say with a smile. 'It would be such a shame for you to miss it?'

He shakes his head again. 'Luckily, I think I'll be working that day. I tried to pass off the tickets to Bella but she seemed even less interested than I was.'

'Oh, she's not going?' I'm incredibly surprised by this, to start with I thought it would've been top of Edward's list. But then if his parents are there…

'No, I think Alice was mentioning about a sleepover. But that might be this- tonight.' He corrects, eyeing the clock.

Carlisle raises his eyebrows, turning to me in question. I squeeze his hand. 'I suppose I'll see her tonight then.'

He pulls his car up right by ours in the parking lot, cutting the engine with a sigh. 'Well then, goodnight, Esme.'

'Night, Charlie. Thank you for the lift.' But as we both unbuckle ourselves and open the car doors, Charlie halts Carlisle and asks for a moment to speak with him alone. I cast a look to him but his blue eyes are humoured so I tell him I'll wait in the car.

I do so, my keys in the engine, hand drumming across my steering wheel as I watch Charlie drive off. Carlisle is standing, grinning by my window.

'Evening, Ma'am.'

'Not getting in?' I ask, confused.

'How about you let me drive?' He offers and because I want to know what he's got in mind, I do as he asks and shuffle across to the passenger seat. He laughs sweetly, closing the door behind him and securing his seat.

'Well, what did he say?' I ask, he smirks beautifully.

'What you'd expect. Gave a gentle lashing... before telling me that if we'd been thoughtful enough, there were a few huts up ahead of us where we wouldn't have been seen.'

'Oh.' I say with a smile. He's not looking my way so I can't wink at him but I can feel pretty damn brilliant about it. 'So who made the phone call then?'

He shrugs. 'Just a passing stranger, he said. Quite disgusted by the sounds of it.'

'But we weren't doing anything!' I complain, folding my arms cross my chest. He reaches out to rub them, grinning. 'But we _weren't_! I've seen people far worse on that beach and none of them were interrupted. It's just our luck!'

'I think the concern was not what we were doing but that it would escalate, my dear.'

My stomach flips, my cheeks burning as I return a loopy smile. 'We have far more self-control than that.'

'Perhaps.' He murmurs and once more I feel myself giggle with him.

* * *

I'm not sure where he's planning on driving to but we stop not at our street as I was expecting but rather a little further off near a cliff top.

'It's late.' He sighs, thoughtfully. 'So if you're tired I'd be happy to drive us home- I just thought a few more-.'

'This is perfect.' I murmur, rolling down the window to let the breeze in.

'Just for a little bit longer.' He agrees softly. 'It's nice to be by the sea again.' I make a point in taking in his view. The safe capture of darkness with the water acts like a moving blanket a few miles off. It's quite gorgeous.

'I'd never imagined you to be such a fan of the water, Carlisle. Not until now.'

He smiles, softly and nods his head. 'I'm not sure why I like it so much. But I do. It's soothing.'

I watch him for the moment, patient before giving in to the flighty feeling in my stomach and crawling between the spaces of our chairs to relax into the back seat. He turns and watches me, gentle laughter evading the space.

'Comfy?'

'Come join me.' I suggest, patting the space next to me, fingering the crease of the felt.

'Need I remind you that this is technically as illegal as-'

'Not for _that_ , Carlisle.' I sigh, rolling my eyes.

'Shame.'

Adjusting his seat, he moves to come round to the back car door and slide next to me. I fiddle with the chair in front of me before pushing it in front and resting my feet up at an angle on it. He looks mildly squished in my car and somewhat uncomfortable but smiles when I smile and nestles his head back.

'Better?' I ask.

He shakes his head, pulling himself up again to reach across to my ankles. He looks briefly at me and then drags them into his lap, allowing the space of the car for his legs to reach the foot hold. My legs are in his lap. He is holding my ankles. Why the fuck didn't I wear a skirt today?

'Now I am.' He amends, smirking.

'I'm sorry for getting you in trouble.' I say gently but he seems focused in staring at my trainers for a long time, frowning at them before gently untying the laces. 'Having fun?'

'Do you mind?' He asks thoughtfully but he doesn't stop at his task.

He unloosens the laces, allowing my foot space before shuffling my shoe off. I grin at the freedom and wiggle my toes so that the socks move. He's moved onto the next foot, finger delicate along my ankle, undressing it with such focus and such dedication that I grin and point my foot. He holds my ankle with a gentle clasp before tugging the shoe off and chucking it carelessly into the space around us. Now just in socks, he brushes a finger along the arch, laughs when it tickles me and rests his hand along my skin between trouser leg and sock material.

'Pleased?' I ask

'I never understood why as a dancer, you didn't spend more time without shoes.'

I laugh gently and arch my foot into a ballet position. 'It's just not always comfortable. That and I thought you had a thing about feet considering you always wear shoes in the house.'

'It's because my balance isn't so good. Shoes weigh me down.'

'Even after all the swimming?' I ask, eyebrows raised.

He doesn't reply, just looks at the material roof, locked in his thoughts. He is warm on my skin and though it's ridiculous, I think I'm more excited about this move than his snog. As in _physically_ excited, I mean. He was always exciting elsewise.

'This isn't the start of a foot fetish, I hope?' I say to him, biting my lip. He lifts himself up, eyebrows furrowed.

'Foot fetish?'

'Please don't ask me explain?' I beg, groaning. He snickers and shakes his head.

'What was it like?' He asks gently. 'The dancing and stuff?'

But his sudden turn of focus makes me feel somewhat uneasy and I look at him warily, eyes as gentle as I can make them.

'What?' He asks, confused. 'What have I said?'

'No-nothing. I was just wondering if-.'

'You _did_ say you had questions.' He murmurs, but with little resistance he encourages me to ask ahead.

'You don't have to answer them?' I offer gently, in the hopes this might make him feel better but I doubt it does other than make him feel more obliged. 'When you were swimming-?'

'Hmm?' He asks, playfully raising an eyebrow as though he's tempted to refuse my answer. His fingertips are itching against my ankle.

'It's just-. Well I know you're your own person and I can respect that _completely_ it's just-.' I inhale widely and readjust myself so I'm facing him. 'Three times is a lot though?' I say gently and because he doesn't understand my point-I'm forced to elaborate. 'It's just- well one incident with a spider was enough to leave _me_ scarred.'

'You're asking if I intended to drown?'

The raw burn of the words in the open air stings my open wounds, but I nod my head. 'You don't have to answer if-'

'Yes.'

'Pardon?' I whisper, gravely.

He eyes a spot in the roof, his face pale but his manner still closed. He doesn't repeat it. I spend a moment thinking of an appropriate response. I stare at my animal socks, pointing them and resting them on his lap until I change my mind and drag them away. He raises his hands, apologetically, surrendering but seems surprised when he realises I'm fidgeting.

'Lay with me?' I ask.

He frowns at first, giving a gentle smile before tilting his head in question. Nevertheless, he pulls himself up along the seats, awkward, his knees bent as he lays uncomfortably on his side. I have to shuffle to lay next to him, holding my breath for a moment until I'm trapped on the edge of the back seat, resting on my left side and facing him, my legs touching against his. He laughs gently, blue eyes shining, his mouth millimetres from my own.

'This is the most uncomfortable position-'

'Then put your arm around me.' I interrupt him.

His frown turns more surprised, but I take the initiative to interlock my hand with his and wrap it up around my back, underneath the layers, just below my bra strap. His breath hitches slightly but once my hand falls away, his palm opens up, warm against my bare skin and electrocuting movement into every fibre of- he pulls me closer, the tip of his nose sliding down my own.

'You were saying?' I ask, my voice thicker now it lands on his lip. He doesn't shy from it.

'Is this what you're thinking? Tease me into confessing secrets?' He whispers, joyfully. 'Because it really isn't-.'

'I thought it might make you feel more comfortable.' I reply, toughly. He closes his eyes, fighting with two answers, both of them amusing apparently. 'I mean more _supported_ , Carlisle.'

'Oh.' He says quickly and then he forces himself to return my gaze, watching my eyes, my mouth, still pulling me closer. 'Es, that's unbelievably… _thoughtful_.'

I'm about to kiss him again, or maybe he moves to kiss me but instead his words bleed painfully onto my lips.

'Yes, I tried to drown myself. The first time was genuine interest of the mosaic, the second two-.' His eyes close, his breathing stifling hot. 'I was struggling with… with it all. I think I probably suspected things before I found the photographs. Luckily, I don't remember but-'

'You don't need to be ashamed, Carlisle.'

'Perhaps I do. It was very selfish…' He says, subtly bitter underneath his calm.

'I don't agree.' I reply, carefully. 'I don't think anyone _would_. '

He shakes his head. 'You would be… the first.'

'To agree?' I ask, astounded but he uses his free hand to comb through my hair.

'To _know_.' His expression turns guilty. Those blue eyes so emotive, but so reluctant, too. 'Does that frighten you?'

I dip my chin, quietly thinking. 'Yes. But not because I don't trust you. More that- it _frightens_ me no one noticed.'

'It wasn't their fault, Es. There was a lot of issues surrounding that place. There was a lot of people-'

'And you was the only child there, right?' I ask, gently. 'Out of _all those people_ , not one person tried to protect you?'

'It was well hidden.' He lies carelessly.

'I don't believe that. Even at nine, twelve…thirteen; I don't think you're as good of a liar as you like to think you are. I think they're excuses.'

'Perhaps.' He muses but he's quiet enough that I know he's concerned about saying the wrong thing.

'You shouldn't be ashamed in your faith, Carlisle.'

'Shouldn't I?' He retorts quickly, wincing when he hears his words back to him.

'No. Not for a moment. The people who took advantage of-... Your religion doesn't make you complicit...'

'It doesn't always feel that way…' he confesses, breathing in so that his chest expands under my hands, he feels me tighten myself to him.

Or rather, he feels the way I hold him to myself again. One of my arms is twisted under the one that is flushed against my skin. But my hand is over his shirt, against the cloth. I'm supporting his act while my left hand twines itself in his heated hair, the threat of sweat evident in both of our tempretures.

'Your temper…?' I ask softly.

'Yeah?' He responds, mildly surprised by this comment.

'It's self-created, isn't it?'

'What do you mean?'

I'm briefly worry that I've over stepped the line but he's curious, asking for my response because he's desperate. But I can see it all now, especially within every decision he's made, every slight confusion, it was all a creation.

'Please don't take this the wrong way-' I start.

'Never.' He vows.

'But-. Your temper, it's a bit of a…?' I hesitate but to my surprise, he chuckles.

'You can say it.' He murmurs, encouragingly.

'It's an act, isn't it?' I whisper, ashamed of myself for thinking it but just as bad for saying it.

'It started off that way.' He admits. 'I think it's comforting now. It's nice to know that I can be angry if I want. I think it also helps with day-to-day misery.'

'I understand.' I promise softly.

'You do?'

'Who wouldn't?' I reply then I wince and start again. 'I mean that... it must be hard for every act to be a _decision_ rather than an act on _impulse_.'

He surprises me by reeling back a little, away from me to stare between us, it makes me shiver.

'Oh God, I'm so sorry.'

He shakes his head, dismissively, enraptured by my utter irrationality, I think. But just as I'm about to burst into a song of apologises, he opens his mouth.

'I have never heard such a perfect explanation-'

'Wait, _what_?' I repeat, confused.

His lip quirks, teeth on show but eyes searching mine as though he's looking for something far more than just pupils enlarging into his. 'Esme Platt, you are _extraordinary_.'

'I am?' I question, leaning into his slick hand and fiddling with several loose waves of his hair. He nods, slowly, eyebrow raised.

'I think that's the last thing I expected to come out of your mouth.' He murmurs, laughing gently.

'Why?' I complain, still unsure of whether his laughter is trustworthy enough for me to join in or if I should call for help.

'Because you _do_ act impulsively, you _do_ hesitate with decisions and you _do_ have a temper.' He emphasises, laying stress on each word in a very different manner of speaking. If I wasn't so trusting of him, I think I'd be afraid, maybe I am anyway but he manages to settle my concerns with less than a few words.

'So what are you saying? That we're jealous of one another?' Because I will take patience any day over a shitty temper.

'I'm saying; opposites attract.' But as he goes to kiss me, I wriggle away, just out of reach by a millimetre. He looks concerned, as if he's worried he's over stepped the mark but I move to ensure I have his complete undivided attention.

'I want you to promise me a few things.' I say, nervous for his response but he agrees without hesitation.

'Of course.'

By metaphor of my upper hand, I slide my leg over his and grin so that he laughs.

'I want you to promise me that you'll try harder not to blame yourself, and you'll forgive your mistakes even when they're out of your hands. I want you to remember you're only human and appreciate that the decisions you make aren't infallible but that doesn't invalidate your emotions any less.'

'Es?' He questions, smirking

'Promise me.' I repeat, determined. He snickers, leaning up to kiss me, his fingertips so perfectly yearning for my surrender and encouraging the shiver.

'I will.'

'I want you to promise me that you'll admit when you're out of your depth and you'll communicate not only when others need it but more importantly, when you do, too. That you'll be honest and won't concern yourself with what you should be rather than what you are.'

'I will.' He confirms, smiling gently.

'I want you to promise not to doubt yourself so easily.' I see him hesitate and shush him. 'Or your faith. To not be afraid of feeling passionate for given reasons and to strive to satisfaction within yourself than with anyone else. For example, stop justifying other people and justify yourself, without the need to save lives. The life-saving qualifications are just bonus points in this case.'

He waits.

'That's it, I'm done.' I promise, laughing gently.

'For now.' He teases.

The hand that's on my back slides south so he can hold me more securely and with an uncomfortable groan, he pulls us until we're sitting up, still intertwined but now with our heads spinning. He sighs, a tonne of weight slipping from him as he raises his eyebrow.

'Well go on then.' I encourage. He laughs.

'I will.' He vows, the sound low in his throat but his grin loving and mischievous.

'Fantastic. Now we can-'

'But to conclude-.' He interrupts, shifting to allow him space. He raises his left hand, palm towards me and settles his right over his chest, close to wear the creases of his shirt are, holding the beat. He clears his throat for effect and tries again.

'I, Carlisle Cullen, do, in this 1994 Ford Fiesta, with sweat to drown the thousands and back-ache to migrate the medical officials, solemnly swear on this spring day that I will do everything in my power to adhere to the excessive proclaimations of one Esme Anne Platt. And to prove my goodhearted _faith_ , ' _do seal with a righteous kiss_ '?'

He waits for me to grin pathetically at him before ensnaring his limbs back around my body and planting a rich and fulfilling kiss on my mouth. I squeal beneath him, not on purpose. I'm just half overwhelmed with how much adoration I have for the man that I'm desperate to prove it. He wrenches my chin to his, intoxicating my ferocity with his sensuality and embracing every skin cell and injecting them with the most loving caress.

I think he's about to continue, about to snake his hand up my back, to make my shiver and cry for his attention but he doesn't. He lets my lips lose him and instead plants a kiss on my forehead.

'Faith, huh?' He says playfully, breathless but as beautiful as ever as he pulls me into his arms.

'Can't say overrated now?' I reply, grinning but something about the careless grin of his makes me think of home and suddenly- 'Do you think we need to be thankful to Edward for this? He kind of encouraged the conversation initially?' I add, laughing.

'I wouldn't speak too soon, Miss Platt.' He teases, softly. I laugh again. He's right.

I try not to, but nestled against his chest is just so comfortable that a yawn escapes my mouth before I can reign it in. He stiffens around me and yawns too before groaning softly.

'Speaking of Edward…' And he shifts me up to peak at the clock at the dashboard. 'Well, shit.'

'What? What's up?' I ask, pulling myself up. He laughs at first but it curbs tightly when he groans and rubs his eyes. 'Carlisle?' He pulls his phone from his back pocket and shows me the home screen, mouth gaping. 'It's four in the morning? How did that happen?!'

'I have no idea!' he replies, shocked. I look at where he's rubbing his forehead and nudge him but he just laughs tiredly and tightens his arm so that we're almost hugging. 'Are you okay?'

'I'm okay. I haven't been travelling for days... Are _you_ okay?'

'Hmm. Ten hour shift tomorrow. I'm questioning if it's worth sleeping at all.'

'Of course it is. Even if it's an hour or so, it's something?' I try to offer. I feel his shoulders shrug, warm against my many layers but still comfortable.

'I think you know better than I do that by the time we get into bed it'll be about five. I start at eight which might give me two hours sleep? Two and a half?'

'You'll be fine.' I promise.

'It's my own fault, anyway...' He says and though I can't see him, I know he's grinning. 'Would you mind if I drove us home?'

'Yes.' I reply. 'But needs must so you're forgiven.' While he's slightly distracted, I grab his chin and plant a chaste kiss on his mouth, one that still leaves him pouting when I move.

* * *

He's quiet as we drive home and I'm not sure if that's because he's tired, irritated or regretful. Or maybe like me- wishing there were ten thousand more hours in the day.

Once inside, he presses an index finger to his mouth and hangs up both my coat and jacket before undoing two of his shirt buttons. I raise an eyebrow but he doesn't look at me just yet. A very light shade of chest hair peaks through the buttons and he fusses around with locking the front door before pointing upstairs. He's staring at my staring.

'What?'

'Are you _trying_ to tease me?' I whisper, leaning my elbows on our stairs and pushing my hips out towards him. He chuckles softly, kisses my forehead and points again upstairs.

'Perhaps another night.' He murmurs.

'Apparently morning sex-'

'Hilarious.' He interrupts, his voice thick from whispering. I grin widely, laughing with him before moving away from the step and heading towards his room.

'I'll see you in there?' He asks, standing beside the bathroom door. I lean against the wall near his bedroom, accentuating my womanly charm and winking very widely. He rolls his eyes.

But for his own sake I decide it's best if I don't push him too much considering he won't be getting a lot of sleep. I pull on his shirt, do up most of the buttons this time and pull on some clean underwear of his so that it's not as suggestive as it would be. Despite this, he still stares once he enters the room again. After returning from the bathroom, I find him in the perfect spot in the perfect position on the bed, spread eagled, hands behind his head.

'All okay?' I ask, coming to stand at the edge. He grins and reluctantly moves to allow me space to nestle myself in.

'You've changed the sheets.' He notices, eyebrow raised.

'I kinda had to.' I say, grinning. He doesn't understand which half makes me want to demonstrate.

'Why?'

'Why do you _think_ , Carlisle?'

He waits silently until the memory speaks for him.

'Wait- you really _were_ in my bed?' He asks, his voice weirdly high. I bite my lip, retreating into myself.

'Urm yeah, sorry…?'

But he surprises me in groaning again, covering his face with both hands as he whines. 'Ugh, that's so fucking hot.'

'Perhaps another night?' I quote to him, smiling widely, he slides his hand down his face enough to raise an eyebrow at me.

'Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me?'

'I am.' I reply, checking the time on my phone. 'If you get to sleep now you might get _three_ and a half hours.'

He drags his hands down his face again before turning his head to the side to smile at me. 'You're amazing.'

'Sleep well, Sweet.' I murmur, my heavy eyes already falling closed as I give into the space of the bed.

'And you, Love.'

And in a careful movement he lays a sixth, sweet and subtle kiss onto the skin of my lips, moving life into them briefly before sealing it off.


	37. Reasons why subtlety is key

_**You guys melt my heart! Your reviews have been so lovely and I'm so grateful you've all stuck with me for so long! I hope this is yet another chapter which you'll love just as much!**_

 _ **In regards to the technical problems, I thought I'd give you a bit of an update: Unfortunately, it's been a bit of a struggle for the site to recognise the new updated date and from what I hear, the emails aren't always regularly sending out either. As a general rule I do my best to update within 6-7days of the last chapter. Usually six but on some occaisons it might be better! I hope it fixes soon though because I'm desperate for the feedback and want you guys to enjoy this story as much as I have!**_

 _ **Thank you so so so so much for your attention and I hope this one is just as enjoyable! I've loved it to pieces!**_

* * *

When the alarm goes off the next morning, despite the fact I haven't slept properly in about a week, I find that I respond to the sound easily. It doesn't irritate me, I'm not in a bad mood and though I'm wondering what possible trouble it'll will cause me later on—I'm more than happy to wake myself up.

He's settled on his side, seemingly lost into the abyss but his arms moves to turn it off and I realise he's doing well to respond so quickly. His hair is a funky mess, his fringe awkwardly angled and for the sake of ease, he lets it fall to his eyes. With forced effort, he pushes himself up, holding his balance determinedly and stretching his back so that the curve of his spine stands out through his t-shirt. He turns to where I'm lying, frowns and pushes the duvet towards me.

'Get some sleep.' He advises, softly treading out the room to have a shower.

I close my eyes momentarily, alerting myself awake when I realise it's suddenly seven thirty. He hasn't left yet because I can hear him pacing along downstairs. So I pull myself from the bed and use so much effort and vigour washing myself that my own perfume stings my nose. I hesitate with a towel, drying quickly before instead, buttoning on the same clothes from last night. He meets me at the bottom step, his eyebrow raised and his eyes tired. He raises a glass of juice out towards me.

'You should really get some rest.'

'I think I'm going to drop off that painting today.' I explain instead, letting the sweetness invade my tongue and liking it. 'I want to get it done with.'

He smirks famously, turning towards the piano. 'I was actually going to ask about that?'

'Please don't, I'm embarrassed enough as it is.' I grimace, looking down at him to find he's grinning, walking softly over to the piece and lifting it into view. I screw my face up.

'I kinda like it.'

'Oh shut-up.'

'Honestly, I do. It's different. You can hardly tell it's me.' He raises a blonde eyebrow, turning his face to the side to look at his painted doppelgänger.

' _I_ can.'

He smiles, holding the painting by the edge, looking over it one more time silently before laying it aside to face me. His navy tie is looped over his collar, his damp hair combed from his face. I lean against the banister.

'Might I say you are looking radiant considering the lack of sleep?' He murmurs, watching my ' _come hither'_ beckoning and moving towards it in his unbelievably sweet way.

'Flattery will get you nowhere, Carlisle.'

He hums, tall in front of me and twisting my plaitted hair in his hand to look at it. He seems fascinated.

'Are you coming to baseball later?' I ask softly, my voice weighted with tiredness but my interest as alive as it always is infront of his eyes. He hesitates and reluctantly nods.

'I promised Emmett that I'd come this time. On the basis that I could make it.' He adds, correcting himself. 'I can't keep shrugging him off- he'll think I'm not interested.'

'Can't be having that.' I taunt, handing out the now empty glass to him.

He takes it, surprised when I tug him by the shirt collar towards me. With a quick but careful hand I pull up the collar, untying the knot of the tie to readjust it over his neck again. I can feel his eyes on me, curious and playful as he watches my hands.

'We're all meant to be staying at Alice's…' I say, still focused in crossing the longer side over the other and bringing it through the loop. He lifts his chin so that I have space to move and as he does so- I realise he's decided to shave for work. I drag a hand under where the shadow was, just incase I might be mistaken and smile, awkwardly. Now I'm sad.

'I'm working tomorrow...' He mentions, cautiously.

'I understand. I would cancel, too but I think I owe her a bit of attention. We barely spoke on Thursday.'

He hums again, blue eyes still trying to see my hands work away. I'm almost done now and so I tighten it comfortably against his throat.

'Thank you.' He says, touching the knot before grinning at me in a way that would deny his claims of a bad night's sleep. I lean towards him, over him, I guess, from the extra two steps I have on his height, staring at his mouth as he speaks. 'Would you like me to stay?'

I pull away to stare with a raised eyebrow, deliberately refusing to answer. I couldn't, it was too selfish. Luckily, he sighs, amused and nods his head.

'I'll stay.' He surrenders breathily.

'You know she wouldn't have a problem-.' I spot him smirking at me and roll my eyes. ' _I_ wouldn't mind if you wanted to stay at home.'

'I think I'd prefer company.' He replies, settling a hand against my jaw to pull my mouth against his.

It's a subdued kiss, quick and delivered but I suspect that's because the kettle goes off in the kitchen and he begrudgingly steps away to attend to it. I lower myself to the bottom step and then the floor, circling to the door frame and grinning deviously. He pours himself a coffee, looks to the time and offers me one. I shake my head.

'I suppose you know what day it is?' I purr, briefly unsure on Edward's whereabouts. He's not here which is all that matters.

I lean against the wood of the door frame, lifting my hip up so that the bottom of the shirt and the leg of his shorts ride up just slightly. He notices, taking a measured swallow of his coffee before shrugging.

'Saturday?' He offers.

'And in relation to the month?'

He grins, eyebrows heavy as he amuses himself in his private guess.

'The second Saturday of the month?' He assumes. I nod carefully pouting slightly with my legs _en croise derriere_ while I hold onto the door. He looks at them quickly, shifting his gaze guiltily to me.

'You know what _that_ means?' I urge huskily. He stands by the island, several steps away from me as if glued into his place. He shakes his head slowly.

'It's liberation day.' I inform him, pulling the bottom of the shirt so that the fabric shifts from the slight display of my shoulders to the immense display of my cleavage. His eyes fall unconciously and he inhales, nervous, uncertain but captivated. 'It's been two weeks, Doctor Cullen. By your diagnosis, end of probation.'

' _Probation_?' He repeats abstractedly.

He's still staring hard because I've pushed my chest up and enslaved him to look at me, teased and taunted him with such a suggestion. I slowly brush my hand up from my stomach, deliberately sliding over my breast, my fingers teasing the opening of his shirt. He parts his lips as though he wants to say something, those blue sapphires still concerned with my every movement. My heart pounds, my breathing heavy as I carefully work my way inside to undo the button from beneath.

With a gasp, his coffee cup shatters over the tiles in a million pieces and he throws himself to the purpose of that rather than staring. I smoothly fix the button again, coming forward to help him but he halts me with a quivering hand.

'Stay there,' he warns, softly. 'You haven't got shoes on.'

'Its fine, Carlisle, let me help.'

'It's my fault-.' But I carefully step towards him, avoiding the ceramic shards. He sighs, pushing out a flat hand to stop me. 'I don't want you to hurt yourself.' He says, but I've already bent down to gather some of the larger pieces. ' _Es_.'

'Don't worry.' I insist, instructing him to pass me the broom from the other side of the room. He moves quickly, a threat of a blush on his cheeks as I lean on my knees to swipe the fragments towards me. 'You've got work. Go. Make sure you're ready.'

I can feel his gaze on my back, most probably caught by how I am _intentionally_ pushing my ass out in a suggestive manner. He tries to say something, maybe in protest, but it gets caught in his throat. While I empty the shards of the cup into a dustbin, he stays uncharacteristically quiet. I suck in a breath, turn to him with a teasing eyebrow and lean out my hip a little more. He doesn't move but his eyes enlarge.

'Not checking me out, _are_ you, Doctor Cullen?'

But with a playful and teasing growl, a guttural yet sweet sound, he encourages me up from the floor, waiting until I'm stood to scoop his arm underneath my knees. I gasp carelessly, drawing on the back of his hair to pull him close to me.

He seats me on the island so that my feet dangle above the floor and traps himself beneath the gap my legs grant him. Though he stands so innocently reserved, he tackles my inflamed mouth with his, a hand securing mine in his hair and laying a warm palm over my knuckles to tighten the grip. The right hand he softly moves against my shoulder blades to work our movements together. Those lips drive furiously against mine, starved. I lean back and though he hesitates, he follows.

Laying me gently against the marble, he concedes to my movements. He allows me to draw him closer, our torsos pressed together as my knees embed themselves in his hips. His aftershave sends my hands crazy, his coffee breath so fierce with mine that he's shocked when I slide a citrus tongue against his lower lip. He almost whimpers, matching my movements with his own need and striving for the attention of my tongue. Though when I award it to him, he crumbles into me; desperate, as I always am, for more.

This time, rather than drag himself away, _I_ promote his departure and with tightly closed eyes, he wittingly steps back.

'You have work…' I whisper apologetically, softening the edge of my hand to a caress rather than a yearn and resting my forehead on his slick one. He nods, breathless before I stroke his cheek. He shivers, grips harder onto the edge of the table before exhaling. 'Are you okay?'

'Give me a moment?' He begs, sweetly and he grins so widely that his chuckle is softened. That will never stop being the most glorious phrase from his mouth.

'I'm sorry- I couldn't help myself….' I confide, shyly but his smile is still fresh on his face. He relaxes his shoulders, moving so we're no longer touching and opens his eyes, a dark midnight blue made darker with his excitement. 'You look good in a suit.'

'You look good in my shirt.' He compliments, eyeing the attire carefully. ' _And_ my boxers.'

'You think that's good, you should see me when-'

'Es.' He interrupts, eyebrows knitting, lips pressed together. ' _Please._ I'm still settling down.' He makes a show of touching his heart as if he meant that and not what we both know he meant. He chuckles again, kissing my nose before stepping away to lean against the worktop as though resting from a work out.

I can't help it, my eyes fall to his pants, staring at his zip, wondering what it could've been just to- _just_.

'It's rude to stare.' He teases, winking at me when he catches my expression. I feel myself grow warm and biting my lip, I look away. 'Oh, sure. Blush at _that_ and not the fact that you inspired this whole-.'

'You were staring at me?' I return, grinning. He rubs the bottom half of his face, shying away pink cheeks.

'You're right, I guess I did. I'm sorry...'

'Don't be.' I announce smugly.

'I tried not to?' He atones, desperately trying to appease the situation and his guilt. It's unnecessary so I grin.

'I know, hon, _I_ provoked _you_.' My eyes briefly catch the clock and sad, I nod to it. He groans again. 'I'm sorry but you've got to go.'

'What are you up to, today? Will I see you later?'

'The painting first. Babysitting today and tomorrow. I thought I might go into town with Serena? Maybe look for something to wear for Saturday.' I raise my eyebrows playfully, grinning at him but his smile is just the same. 'Alice is working, too so she can help out.'

'Can I call?'

'Depends what kind of phone call you're wanting.' I tease, winking at him again but he smirks, turning away to hide his eyes.

'Not _that_ kind.'

'Shame.'

'I agree.' He mutters and with another sigh, he heaves himself off the side and looks guiltily at the floor.

'I'll get that, don't worry about it.'

'I'm really sorry. I wasn't thinking when-' He stops himself. 'I really appreciate it. Thank you.' He finalises instead, scratching his forehead with a knuckle and leaning towards me. 'Will I see you at home?'

I shake my head. 'I'll probably catch a lift up with Alice. Emmett's got the place booked for seven so I'll meet you there.'

He nods again, hair slipping, lips moving, eyes gazing. I look to the clock. 'You better go. You don't want to be late.'

'I'll see you tonight.' he promises. I straighten his tie again and grin, pushing into his chest a little to get him to move. He presses his lips to mine, sweet, thoughtful and deliberately without suggestion though his hand lingers at my rib cage.

'Carlisle!' I warn him. ' _Go_!'

'I'm going.' He says absently, matching my smile.

His feet turn to go, hesitate and then he leans towards me again, his eyebrows raised in hope. I deliberately whine, laughing as I pull his face to mine and kiss him properly. I'm deliberate, I'm charming and though there's passion there, I ensure it's guarded.

He scrunches up his nose.

'Leave before I kick you out. You've got patients to look after!' I remind him, laughing again when he struggles to get moving. With a gentle sigh he nods his head, whispers goodbye and hurriedly grabs his bag, closing the door gently and leaving me quite lonely.

* * *

Yoga is easy to cope with today on the fact that I've come to an earlier class. I have a good session, stretching out all those imperfect areas and loving every inch of them for once. I could see what they did to him. How utterly he valued looking at them, how guilty he fell to his graces and how sweetly he tried to forgive them.

Mrs Walderman is delighted to see me on her doorstep at eleven, earlier than expected and quickly does what she can to pass her kids off to me while she rushes on out to work. She's a hot-shot psychiatrist somewhere in the middle of the city and won't be finished till later. The kids are in fairly good moods and Serena is happy to confess all that's happened in her crazy week. Including a kiss behind the bike shed and the class clown in the eye of her affections. Though I'm shuddering, I do my best to encourage her school work instead. There's homework that she's complaining about and so while her brother naps, I do my best to talk over it with her. But it's languages and I'm rubbish at those. So, once I've signed the painting off at college and been left with a phone number, I decide to take them into town.

There's nothing which captures their interest as much as I would've liked. Not the toy or the book store or even the park so once I've checked to make sure I haven't missed a phone call from the children's mother, we head for lunch.

Serena is _still_ talking about her boyfriend which even though annoyed me at first, I end up finding sweet after. She's not loved up, which I'm exceptionally proud of but she is giggly and I'm rather enjoying her chatter. Her baby brother over the course of a few hours has slowly turned even quietier which is why I keep an eye on him. They're both eating ice creams when my phone goes off again. I'm just about to ignore it when a loopy smile appears on my face.

'I almost thought you'd forgotten' I say honestly, watching the children but listening earnestly to hear his cheery laugh.

' _I'm hurt by the suggestion._ '

'I was convinced I'd frightened you off. Maybe sent your tail into a spin?' I tease and I love how funny he apparently finds the suggestion.

' _I don't know what you'd like me to reply to that_.' He says jovially. I laugh in the same tone that your mother does when she's on the phone and sewing at the same time.

'So has anything in particular happened since you left my good graces?' I ask, humbled.

' _Two guesses,_ ' he says simply.

'You've called to see how my submission went?'

You can _hear_ him smile. ' _No. But how did it go_?'

I shrug even though he can't see it. 'Alright, I hope. I'll find out in the next few days.'

It isn't that simple reastically, it's just something I'd rather explain face-to-face. That way I get the joy of his excessive compliments.

' _Good luck. One more guess._ '

'Hmmm.' I push a napkin along to the children who are coated in their dessert. Both of them and they look cute. 'Might it be something to do with Father Cullen?'

' _Ding, ding, ding!'_ He sings. ' _You've won a prize_!'

'Enlighten me.'

' _He wanted to confirm about dinner Saturday, but he's asked for us to come even earlier._ '

'No.' I say firmly, laughing when he sighs down the receiver.

' _That's what I said- he's insisting on it if I want funding for this new neonatal unit_. _Already, he's managed to blackmail me into doing things I'm already doing!_ '

'That _really_ sucks.'

' _I know, poor me_.' He says dramatically. I know it's coming and bite my lip in anticipation. ' _Es?_ '

'Doctor Cullen.' I murmur back, mimicking the same tone, but elongating the sound in mine. Serena looks briefly concerned.

' _Would you mind attending dinner with me a little earlier next week_?'

'I _would_ mind.' I tell him.

 _'Please_.' He sings softly, stretching out the 'e' sound.

'You want me to go with you, _earlier_ than expected, to spend even longer with your Nutjob of a father?' Shit, I forgot about the kids. Serena looks up, giggling at the term but luckily Johnathan is too young to notice. Ooops.

' _That would be the intention_ …'

'Why?! Make Edward go instead.'

' _He is going. Besides, you might as well come, too. You'll just be waiting around to meet us, otherwise?_ '

He plays a good game.

'What's the point in asking if my attending is obligatory?' I ask

' _I was being polite_.'

'Sure you were. When is he expecting us?'

' _Two.._.'

'TWO?!' I repeat, astounded. 'Carlisle, that's longer than a night shift!'

' _I know, I know. It's weird..._ ' It's more than weird, it's excessively insane. So I wait for him to beg again. Which he does without prompt. ' _Please_?'

'Why do you need me that early?' I complain, fiddling with the straw of my drink.

' _Moral support_?' He suggests.

'HA!'

' _To keep my spirits up? To help me remember my big speech_?'

'You have to do a speech, here aswell?' I assumed that was just an Alaska thing.

' _Two_.' He corrects.

I can't help but react to this. The younger of the children is begging for my attention, showing me sticky hands and a messy face. I manage to free a wet wipe with a free hand and clean up the dirt but he's still irritable. I'm just praying he's not ill.

'Why have you written _two_ speeches?' I ask, trying not to sound as condescending as it naturally does.

' _One for the ball… one for him_.'

'You've written him a speech?' The phone is pressed up to my ear by my shoulder and out the corner of my eye, I can see Serena watching. I chuckle slightly and grin at her so that she mimics me from across the table, poutng deliberately and flicking her hair back.

'M _ore like a line of argument? So I remember my points. I'll show you sometime_.' He's so nervous, bless him. Though I'm suddenly nervous over what is there to argue about... or at least why he feels the need to prepare so thoroughly?

'Carlisle, you'll be fine.' I've done it again…I've said his name with the same amount of love you'd give a partner...maybe _more_ so.

' _Still, I'd like to be prepared_.' Not enough judging by this morning and now I'm thrilled again. The same rising excitement in my gut.

I shake my head as if I'm fixing my hair, waiting for the inappropriate thoughts to subside. Sighing theatrically: 'Fiiiine, I'll go with you!'

' _Thank you_.' He sings, speaking louder so that the kids wonder who is on the phone. I show Serena the screen to stop her from chewing my ear off and smile when she greets him loudly, as polite as always, making me feel even more like that 'adult figure' she assumes of us.

' _Send my greetings_?' He asks, chuckling musically in response to her interview of questions.

'Of course. Are you on lunch?'

' _Not for long, I've got a meeting to attend in a minute_.'

'Should I let you go?' I offer, selflessly wish for him to say no.

' _Tell me about your day first_.'

My smile grows larger.

' _I'm_ eating ice cream.' I brag, laughing along with the kids as they rpoduly show off their empty bowls. 'But I think we might head back into town for a bit. Serena has a school party coming up and _needs_ a dress.' I wonder if he can hear my sarcasm. His chuckle assures me he can.

' _Are you still planning on getting one, too_?'

'I'm thinking of wearing a pantsuit.' I think this is meant to be a joke but it comes out like a tease. 'You know, defeat the stereotype and all that.'

' _You couldn't be a part of the stereotype even if you wanted, too_.' He says charmingly and I genuinely have to think for a moment to tell whether it's a compliment or not.

'Is that a challenge, Doctor Cullen?'

' _If you would like it to be.'_ If I keep smiling like this I'm going to forget how to scowl. What is wrong with me today?! ' _I'd better go_.' He says quickly. ' _Matron is on my back and I'm already running late_.'

'Well that's a position I've never heard of…' I murmur, keeping my voice all husky and suggestive. He laughs jovially, probably combing his hair back like he normally does to show off.

' _Do I actually have something over the famous Miss Platt?_ '

'That's for me to know.' I whisper, sounding more and more like a telephone sex operator and hating myself for it. All I need to do is add a few groans and whines again and I could charge him….

' _Well, my dear-. Urm, I will make a note of it and contact you about it at a nearer date_?'

'Carlisle?' I ask confused but his hums in the affirmative to prove my suspicions and pulling the phone away, I laugh a little more. 'Can it be assumed you're in trouble?'

' _Consider this my official confirmation_.' He says formally then a little more thoroughly: ' _I'll be in contact.'_

'I'll see you at seven, then?' I say, with no intention of closing the line.

' _I can't thank you enough for your time, Madam_. _'_

'Perhaps you can?' I mock him, laughing even more when he clears his throat. The kids are uninterested. 'Happy liberation day?' I add, biting into my lip. I can imagine him red, uncomfortable and struggling for a reply with a perfect smirk on his face.

' _Indeed._ '

'Bye then?' I say, quietly.

' _Goodbye…_ ' There's another pause as I try again not to laugh so brazenly. He waits but doesn't hang up so I wait, too. For a good thirty seconds.

'Carlisle?'

' _Okay- she's gone_.' He explains, laughing. ' _What is it with you making every phone call R-rated?_ '

'I better go,' I sigh, recovering from my chuckles. 'The kids-.'

' _Typical_.' He laughs. ' _What I wouldn't give for-._ ' He stops, clearing his throat loudly again and putting on that same phone tone. ' _A moment to thank you for your co-operation_.'

'I'm hanging up, you loser.'

' _The spring can be especially_ _hard_ _for some people and I completely empathise-._ '

I physically can't speak because I'm laughing so much. So I don't hold myself to the conversation for fear I won't return from it. Instead I quickly press the end call button.

* * *

After lunch, we head into Alice's place of work to see what might be on offer and better, in budget. One of her co-workers, a guy with a hugely flamboyant hair-do and even more lively makeup, dotes on Johnathan and even though the poor kid looks to me in horror at first, he slowly relaxes and enjoys the attention. So with him occupied, we turn to Serena.

Alice finally comes out from the back of the shop, sees me and squeals with delight. She hugs me tightly around the arms, maybe because she's as eager as I am to forget the other night and after asking about my head, bounds into conversation with my neighbour.

'Is it disco or posh?' She asks the blonde girl, listening as if her 'client' is the most important thing in the room. You have to love that about her. Alice always has a way of making you feel particularly important.

'Disco.'

'Themed or not?' Continues Alice.

'No theme,' answers Serena.

'Are you looking to stand out or did you want something similar to what everyone else is wearing?'

And that's how it continues. So I take a seat on the sofa, sit with the crazy guy and Johnathan, read a bit of _Spot Goes to the Park_ while Alice shows Serena Narnia. With them both distracted… I look through one of the posh rails to the side. The shop is a nice quaint little thing. Not a brand name and not full of well-known designers but definitely full with some of the _nicest_ material with the most extravagant prices you could ever picture. I know what I want, something black. Conservative, simple and cheap in price but not in style. But nothing is catching my attention.

'Need a little help there, hunny?' The assistant offers, hand drumming on the rail. I jump away from it as if it's a live snake and I'm the elephant accommodating it. I hate it when people give me pet names but smile sweetly at Will.

'Just being nosy.' I say, like _everyone_ does when one of the sales assistants hounds you with their attention.

'Well…if you need my help…?'

I continue pushing the coat hangers to the left, reading the material, the colours, the fabric and more importantly, the price. These were the _only_ things within my budget… And you could tell why. _Ick_.

'What do you think?' Alice asks, throwing back the curtain to one of the cubicles and revealing the eleven year old in a 50's inspired blue and gold dress. As much as I hate to admit it, she looks gorgeous and very grown-up.

'Very nice, very girly.' I compliment, nodding in agreement. With Will's encouragement, the baby claps his hands together.

'Cute isn't it.' Alice agrees happily. 'You're going to have _so_ much fun at your disco.'

Serena is loving the attention and flicks her hair back knowingly so that she's imitating some TV model. We laugh, beaming at her joy, Johnathan leaning tiredly on my leg as he fiddles with my shoelaces

'Is that everything?' She asks, beaming proudly at her choice, looking more like a French fashion designer every day. This is where I start to really hate sales assistants;

'Your friend _was_ just looking at the dresses on the rack...' Will says slowly, and I just know that from behind my head, he's doing that haughty pout. _Don't roll your eyes_.

Alice grins. 'You were? What for?'

 _Don't say anything._

'Just browsing?'

She raises her perfectly drawn eyebrows. 'Esme, you don't _just_ browse in a shop like this.'

'There's kind of…' _Shut up, Esme._ 'A ball thing next Saturday...?'

And just like Christmas, she lights up. 'Wait- It's a _ball_?!'

Part of me wonders if she's waiting to laugh her ass off at me. I know I would but she's so comfortable with the situation, she's hardly pissed that I've informed her so late. To be fair, _I_ didn't know till yesterday. She can't hold anything against me. I nod slowly, cautious but she's on me in a second, dragging me through to the bigger selection of dresses at the back. I quietly whine .

'Like an expensive 'invitations-only' ball?!' She asks excitedly. I grimace before nodding again. Then I lose her to reality. She goes on an immediate flair, throwing dresses my way, singing this, singing that like we're in a musical. I just stare behind her. That was quick.

'Long or short? Is it like an aged one? Cocktail dresses or ball gowns? Like 40s/50s?!'

'Alice.' Like she's listening.

'Saturday?! You guys don't give me much time do you?!' She chides playfully, flinging more shit at me and clapping her hands together.

'Alice.' I repeat, louder.

'You could go all glam!'

' _Alice_?' Finally _._ She looks at me, all smiles and hopes pausing for fear I'm going to trash her happiness.

'What?!' She demands quickly. I can't believe I find myself saying it so I don't say it, I just nod my head behind her, questioningly. It's like the perfect red dress moment. Quite literally.

'What about that one?' I ask, eyes locked into the same space of the room as it had been when I walked in here.

I always wear black, _especially_ with dresses, so the fact this has caught my eye is uncharacteristic. She turns so fast that her gelled spikes sway in time to her skirt.

' _That_ one?!' She asks ludicrously, as if I've just asked to go in my birthday suit.

'What's wrong with it?' I reply, frowning a little. Please don't be the price... But when she turns back, I see she's grinning. Thank fuck.

'It's not the sort you wear a bra with.' She tells me once I'm in the little changing room in my smalls. I sigh and take off the bra to which she jumps back from.

'What?' I say grumpily when she gives me a disgusted face.

'You nearly took me out then. Blimey, give me a bit of warning.' She laughs, rolling the dress up into a circle and pulling it over my head.

It's a comment that since a week ago could go either way. Because of the joys that were this morning I think I'm going to appreciate it. Though it quickly comes to our attention that it's my tits which will be the problem if anything…but everything else is just _fiiiine_. I look kinda good.

'How much is-'

'Never mind _that_!' She shushes. She takes my hair down for me so that the curls wave down my shoulders, flicking at the ends and styling them to how she expects them to lay.

I almost forget who I'm looking at when in the mirror.

The dress is a bold red, more a dark than a burnt-orange . An old style 1940s red. The material itself is tight fitting and sticks to all my curves beautifully, highlighting where I've lost some weight but making my thighs and my hips look gorgeously voluptuous. The rest of the material from the hips is pulled in tightly, ending short at the middle of my calf making me look classier than ever.

But that's not my favourite bit of the dress. It has straps that aren't designed to go higher than the top of my bust. The straps are made to look like a sleeve of red roses and they curl around the top of my arms, flowing around the balcony of my chest before meeting together to form a plunging cleavage. I surprise myself by looking hot as hell.

'You suit red.' She sighs, fiddling with the flowers by the bottom of my neck. For once I take the compliment well and shift my hair a little in the mirror to suit how I might want to wear it.

'I never wear red.' I reply, turning to check out my ass. _Nice_ , very nice. This dress is a winner.

'Exactly.' She says happily, pulling up the front a little but otherwise looking very pleased with herself. 'You'll have to buy boob tape. Just to keep it from slipping but it'll look smoking still.'

'Thanks, Sweet.'

'You could do a Hollywood glam?' She suggests, the tape measure hanging around her front like a scarf. 'Curl your hair really softly, red lip, winged eyeliner?'

She's getting ahead of herself but I'm too pleased to be annoyed. I just grin proudly and agree, testing the act of walking and being unexpectedly surprised by the ease. The material though snug isn't uncomfortable.

'Heels?'

Shamelessly, I'm thinking about Cullen's height. He's not overly tall but he _is_ taller than me, way taller…

'I just might?' I pout in the mirror and have to remind myself to stop flirting with myself. She squeals excitedly again.

'Are you thinking red stiletto or silver?'

'Silver will stand out…' I say softly, it forming a sound of a complaint on my lips. I rarely wear heels and rarer than that, I even think about going near stilettos. In the mirror, I see her wink.

' _Exactly_.'

'Maybe a slight bit of silver then… But don't go crazy.'

She pops out for barely two seconds and returns with glittered platforms on a stiletto heel; basically death traps. But holy fuck they make my legs look great.

'They're comfortable?' I realise, turning my foot out on the side and balancing to see the thick safety of the shoe at least on ball of my feet. She grins and nods.

'I know!' She agrees, showing me her leg. 'I have six pairs!'

Trust Alice. But I spend several moments appreciating her talent and her eye, and angling myself in the mirror. This is the kinda shit I would go crazy for. I'm a lot more clean looking than when I wear one of his T-shirts and the shape is more flattering without being slutty. It's a suggestive but reserved design. I love that.

'You look so great!' She sighs, hands together, looking at me like a mom would watch her child go to prom. Though I have a feeling she won't approve of my date. Perfect then.

'Just... be careful…' She whispers, eyeing the dress in the mirror. I look to her and bite my lip, knowing full well I've fallen too soon. It's going to be a price well out my comfort zone.

'Do you think it's too much?' I ask, smoothing my sides. She shakes her head, mouth closed, eyes panning down.

'Just… You don't want to lead anyone on…'

And there was me thinking she genuinely meant the price. Apparently just the style.

'Alice?' I sing as a warning, tilting my head. She breathes in, rolling her eyes slightly.

'Carlisle phoned.' She explains, looking at the dress fondly.

My mouth falls open, my cheeks lighting up though I really don't want them to. Since when did Alice have a conversation with Carlisle without jumping down _my_ throat?! She seems weirdly quiet. Well I guess this would explain her good mood then?

' _Why_ did he phone?' I ask cautiously. She shrugs, offering a placid smile as she fiddles with my hair.

'To catch up? Mention about the evening... apologise for being unable to get the rest of us tickets?'

'He did?' I ask, surprised. How sweet of him.

'He promised to explain tonight but said he's likely to be late...' She says, softly. I nod absently thinking of the dress, his response perhaps.

'I know how much he dislikes his father, Esme.' She mutters, carefully. 'Please… You don't want to make a bad impression for him?'

Excuse _me?!_

'Thanks.' I say loudly. She sighs, feigning relief but still looks a little white. She nudges my arm.

'Just be careful...And make sure you find the cutest person there and bring him home with you!'

'I promise.' I reply with a sly grin.

Besides, probation officially ends tonight. I have a free vagina tomorrow and I have the full intention of using it. If it wasn't for being round Alice's- I'd use it tonight. Though that wouldn't have stopped me before. The thought of making the suggestion to Carlisle has me laughing again and despite her rudeness, I'm happy enough to just ignore the over-concern for one night.

'Hey Alice?' She's smiling at my outfit, proud of the way it makes me proud of my assets…and right now they're _definitely_ assets.

'I have the perfect set of silver earrings if you want to wear them, too?' She offers, still holding that light smile, her eyes glittering.

'That would be great-. Alice?'

'You're just going to look so gorgeous!' She promises, grinning at me.

'Earth to Alice?!'

'Whaaaat?'

'Got any ties in this colour?' I pull out the material to indicate my thought process.

'Sure!'

She gives me a discount like I ask, because let's face it, she's Alice and she's dependable. She bags up our stuff, tells me she loves me and reminds me not to be an arsehole but as I push my card towards her she pushes it back.

'Dude, I haven't got cash?' I say, tapping the front. That and if I use a debit card I don't have to see how much it is- it's a perfect way to shut myself up. She rolls her eyes, her thick eyelashes fluttering.

'I did _say_ Carlisle phoned?' She replies, leaning on the corner of the table like that explains everything?

'What's that supposed to mean?' I ask, now back in my jeans and shitty top. Serena is parading the bag with her dress in and Will is making faces to the kid resting sleepily on my shoulder. She rolls her eyes.

'He's got it covered.' She dismisses, fighting the smile on her mouth. 'He said that if you complained I'd have to wish you happy birthday.'

'It's four months till my birthday? I denounce, glaring. She shakes her head, clearly not as interested in this topic of conversation as she was with the outfit.

'It's probably a thank you for attending with him.'

'Can you _please_ just let me pay for my own clothes? Regardless of the gesture.' I CAN'T TELL WHETHER I'M INFURIATED OR OVERWHELMED WITH FLATTERY.

She shakes her head. 'It's gone through.'

'Well, what about the shoes?!'

'He asked to cover those, too.'

'Alice! These shoes are expensive. Refund him. _Now_!' If the shoes were at least forty dollars, there's no way in hell I'm letting him cover the total outfit. Fuck that.

'I promised Esme. If you have a problem, take it up with him!'

I groan loudly, apologising to Serena when she complains of boredom and pushing my card back on the table. 'And the extras?'

Finally she changes her expression. 'Oh, I forgot about that!'

'That comes out of-'

'I know!' She says irritably, taking my card and showing me the machine. She waits untill I'm done to tell me off. 'You can't have a go when you've done the same thing.'

'I didn't buy an outfit, I brought-'

'Okay, okay. I get the picture.' She complains, loudly. 'I finish at six, don't be late?'

'I'll see you later, Alice.' I say, trying not to frown when I say goodbye. With a slight air of rebellion, I hug her as a thank you while she says her goodbyes to my company.

* * *

Mrs Walderman is over the moon when we return with a dress for Serena and her son asleep on my shoulder. She's even more over the moon that she managed to finish the report on her psychopath and pays me extremely well again. My quit-my-job fund is going well and wishing them a good evening, I promise to see them tomorrow.

The rest of the evening alone flies by and soon enough I'm in Alice's car being driven to the stadium, silently listening to her speech about classes. Emmett is tapping his foot impatiently when we park up next to his jeep. Though he really shouldn't be complaining. We're only three minutes late.

'What time do you call this?!' He complains, looking at us with a freckled face of disgust. It's even funnier when you think about the fact that Emmett is _always_ late.

'Calm it, Em. We're here now.' I say, slamming the door shut.

Blondie looks like she belongs in the major leagues and I kinda hate her for it. But at least once we make our way into the open field, Jasper is his usual self. So I go help him redraw the floor and put out the bases.

'How are things going?' He says playfully, doing the eyebrow thing. _Ha_.

'Leave me alone, you totally told Alice on me the other day and now she's convinced I'm trying to sleep with him.'

He laughs loudly enough that I want to hit him.

'Well, you _did_ kind of corrupt him.'

I shrug, and look back to the open doors of the stadium to where Carlisle has just arrived with Edward and Bella. He's so sweet, his hair unruly and his expression pale but he's chatting with Alice and it's making me nervous.

'Kind of?' I admit facing him again.

Before I can stop it, a huge groan comes from my chest. Like a cry of frustration. Jasper gives me a funny look before laughing, chucking the chalk to me and instructing where to start. Emmett's still complaining about something behind my head so while he has the attention of at least Bella, who initially made her way over to offer her greetings, I escape further afield to change into trainers.

It's pathetic but I'm tired now and have to bend my leg against the wall to tie them but once they're done, I stand back, satisfied.

' _Gotcha_!'

I go to leap in surprise but the thick arms around my stomach stop me, he spins me twice, his friendly laughter in my ear before carefully placing me back to the floor where my feet take a cautious step. _Swoon_.

'And what was that for?' I say excitedly really _, really_ trying not to grin. But his arms are fucking gorgeous and he is fucking gorgeous and I'm only human. He's looking breathless but super cute in his plain white T-shirt and shorts.

He grins, running a hand through his hair as though it's a deliberate excuse to show off his hot as fuck biceps. I smooth my plait down, pulling it over my shoulder.

'How was work?' I ask quietly once we're hidden behind the shield of Edward's complaints and Bella's defences to do with her shit truck. I've been informed that they've been playfully bickering since the car ride.

'Yeah, it was good. I did sutures all morning which was a bit repetitive but later I was allowed to go and ' _research_ ' for my speech.'

I smile. 'Does that mean hang out at the kids ward?'

'I've got pen marks all over my jacket but it was worth it. All of them are doing so _well_.'

It kind makes me sad that Cullen hasn't got any younger siblings to dote on. Especially because he finds so much reward and so much joy in making them better.

'Glad to hear it!' Though I'm desperate to see this jacket all of a sudden.

'Maddison reckons he can bump up my training a few years.' He's talking quietly now, clearly doesn't want Edward to overhear or anyone for that matter but they're in a cluster around Emmett, passing around T-shirts and talking.

'Meaning?' I ask slowly. A slight smile steals his mouth, a very slight one.

'It means that by the end of the year, I could already be looking into applying for the residency programme.'

'You're joking!' I gasp, reaching out to stop him. His beautiful grin takes up his face, more noticeable than his exhaustion.

'He's going to speak to a few of the hospital wardens, see what he can do. He says it would mean taking about eight more exams but _if_ I pass them all…'

'Carlisle, you're _kidding_?!'

He finally shows me those jewelled eyes and shakes his head, the smile growing.

'I'm trying not to get my hopes up in case they say no or even worse, I fail but it's just so surreal.'

'That's fantastic!' I whisper, reaching out instinctively to crush him into a hug. He hesitates, looking at me, then across the field and back to me where I'm looking at my feet. He grins, laughing shyly before taking the risk to wink at me. It's well-played and sends my heart into over drive. 'That's brilliant! You should be so proud.'

'He'll be there on Saturday. He says he's going to speak to a few people but he thinks I've got a good chance.'

'Jesus Christ, a surgeon _already_?!'

' _In training_.' He corrects, chuckling. I want to kiss him. I want to throw my pride on to him and snog him as passionately as possible…but I'm not going to do that. I _can't_.

'Are we telling anyone?' I ask, lowering my voice as we wander closer to the group. Notice how I say _we_ \- it was an accident but I still feel a part of it now.

He shakes his head. 'Not until I pass the exams...'

'Do you need any help?' I can't study for shit and even worse than that, studying in a group is my downfall.

'From the girl who couldn't pronounce antibiotic?' he says smugly, smirking in his typical way.

'Yeah _alright_ , it was written with a bunch of other crazy Latin stuff. How was I meant to know it was talking about the general thing and not a specific medicine?'

'Because it said _antibiotic_.'

'I wouldn't piss me off, Cullen. I'm mad at you.' I warn him, forcing a glare onto my face because it's not naturally coming.

'What? Why?' Though he looks more amused than ever.

'You know _why_. You brought-'

'You're welcome.' He interrupts, his grin even more cheeky and his expression more exhausted. That's the only excuse he's having. I'm still mad.

'Consult me next time?' I ask, slightly moody about the ordeal but still so utterly complimented by it.

'Kind of defeats the point of a _surprise_.' He argues, catching my blank expression and grinning even wider- now I'm smiling, dammit!

I roll my eyes and push him but he wraps a hand around my wrist so I stumble towards him, giving him the excuse to lay his hands on my arms and steady me again. I hate myself for leaning into him.

'Thank you...' I mouth toughly, head tilted to be sure no one else can read my lips. He's beaming at me.

'Can I see it?'

I shake my head.

'How come?' He's pouting now, confused but still endangering our 'platonic' impression with how close he's standing next to me. I make a concious choice to step away though I regret it instantaneously.

'It might be _my_ liberation day, Hon, but no way in hell is it _yours_.'

He shudders a little, fighting hard to ignore it as he battles with the wide grin on his face. Before we both come under the fire of suspicion, I step well away from him and look cautiously to the group in front, an argument has broken out. So I turn to him once, raise his cocky smile with my own and wink. We avoid speaking to each other directly for a good twenty minutes after, mainly because we're both too busy fighting the smiles on our cheeks even though we should be working harder to fly under the radar, I'm wrapped so tightly around him that I'm surprised no one has noticed.

'It's not blondes against 'others' is it?' I complain to the cluster of people. 'Emmett, get original will you?'

Cullen grins as he stands next to Edward, listening to Jasper mutter something in his ear before rolling his eyes in agreement.

'It is but we've got Alice. You've got Bella.' Rose says smugly, stetching out her hamstring like a sports advert.

I almost wince but think about the repercusions of doing so... I look to my left where Bella is smiling apologetically at me but because of my good mood – and my insane sleep deprivation, I just laugh and link my arm in hers.

'Good- it means you're on the _modest_ side.'

I have to deliberately avoid looking at Emmett so as not to shoot myself in the foot.

'I'd debate that.' Edward says playfully, shoving Carlisle back to his team where he saunters off like a professional walker. Those calves…..Mmm. What is with this guy's _smile_?! Just looking at it, I'd be happy to take him down. Take him down _several_ times in fact. And in _several positions.._.

'Esme! _Get your ass over here_!' Emmett yells impatiently and I have to shove away the bad plans again because that's all I want to think about.

Even Edward's got his game face on. Which is great because I want to win. So we go through our game plan. Which for Bella is just hit and run, for us (who actually don't mind getting dirty) means thinking about Alice's pitches, where we want to bat and where we want to stand depending on whose batting etc.

After a quick Rock, Paper, Scissors between Em and Cullen, we're batting first and as he turns to run out to second base, he gives me his playful smirk _. Oh no you don't_. So I shoot him a grin and turn back to Bella acting as innocent as she looks, a new-born Bambi on stilts. Bella bats first because Alice's pitches get harder to return the further along in the game. Meaning that if she tries, she might actually hit the damn thing-.

Nope.

No she didn't.

See, we're standing in a very big empty college stadium. There's grass and dirt on the soles on our trainers, there's a glorious chilly wind nipping at our noses and there's that glorious smell of determination and fun. Bella is hating it. And she's wasting our $20.

'Hey Bells,' Em says softly. You can read the jealousy on Edwards face just from one nickname. 'Why don't you go sit on a bench or something?'

I know Emmett's sounding like a total dickhead but he really _is_ the competitive type. Hence why we're always on the same team otherwise I'd never be able to cope with being friends again let alone loosing.

'Em, come on.' I say, trying to rescue her but she seems perfectly content, if not _pleased_ , to do as he asks. And he has got a point. He wraps a heavy arm on her shoulders.

'Just- just umpire for a bit, yeah?'

She nods excitedly and takes her seat. Jasper is sniggering, Alice is giggling to Rosalie and even with a 'player' down- if you could call her that-we're going to beat them. So with her on the bench, we can actually play a game.

I'm up next, Alice is grinning- I don't know why- and takes an overdramatic cat leap on her back leg to throw me a fast one. But I swing my bat, hit the ball and run flat out. For a moment, it looks like Jasper's got the ball, but he and Rosalie manag to both miss. I keep pushing my feet into the grass, losing my grip the faster I run.

Cullen's coming in from the other side since he's just caught the ball of off Rose and then we're both racing to the nearest base until we come colliding into one another. Even though we're both grinning, breathing loudly, our whites shirted in dust and black soil, we both immediately look to Bella who is debating. FUCKING _DEBATING_. I WAS TOTALLY IN- Don't you dare.

'Urm.'

'Come on, Bella!' Emmet yells from home.

'I _guess_ that was in?' She says nervously.

' _Guess_?' Cullen says, still locking me to the floor despite me trying to shove him off. My shoves are pathetic, I love having him around my legs.

'Yeah? _Yeah_. It was in- you're still in.' she confirms delicately.

'See, _in_!' I brag to Cullen who is very deliberately pushing his shoulder into me in a way that's messing with my hormones. 'Get off me, loser!'

And he does so with a disbelieving shake of his head. 'You were out and you _know_ it.'

I scoff and push him gently with the round edge of my bat. 'Just because you know you're going to lose.'

' _GUYS_! We've only got another hour in the place!'

We turn to Alice's yelling, I dust off my knees and return to my team. Emmett slings an arm around my shoulder and grins but he's actually whispering to me through clenched teeth.

'Hey Es?'

'What?' I say, laughing. He turns us around with our backs to Edward.

'I don't care if that is your flatmate, if there _is anyway_ you can use your womanly charms- for the sake of the team-'

I almost laugh. 'You want me to cheat?'

' _Noooo_!'

We turn quickly to see Edward hit the ball with a shattering smack and sprint across the space. It's _got_ to be a home run- though Cullen is determined and runs almost as fast. The look of determination is so hot and so focused that I'm almost tempted to accuse him of showing off. Unless of course he's using the last of his exhaustion to make up for his loss of a running routine these past few days.

'No, but if someone _happens_ to be distracted-'

'Got it.' I say quickly, discarding of my jacket so I'm just in my shirt. I really am sweating already but Em clearly thinks I'm getting a head start and gives me two thumbs up. I roll my eyes.

Emmett's bats are far better than mine and Edward's but then we're faster than he is. The sound of the ball splitting my ears rattles around the stadium and in his fastest jog, he makes it back round no complaint.

We have three more runs each and just as Emmett's asked, when batting, I take a particular effort to squat a little, giving the Lycra that perfect balance of firm desire without being overtly flirty. And guess who was right?

Even Jasper is slow in his reactions but that's only because he's trying to understand my motive…which means Rosalie is left to go leaping for the ball with a miss. I get a full run the first time because Cullen's _too_ distracted to cover his base properly by the next one, he's predicted the batting and my cheating and Jasper grabs both flights, first with trouble and the last with ease. Bella is almost asleep on the bench, reading through her dog-eared book like the nerd she is and Edward is captivated. My cheeks are inflamed with the rush of the wind, hot blood is coursing through my veins and my hamstrings are killing me.

So I'm pretty relieved when we swap to the pitching side.

Rosalie is actually a really- _really_ \- great player and the moment she bats, I nearly fucking fall over from pure speed at which her ball is hit. Alice is pitching for us too, to make it fair, though I don't trust her. Jasper's slight tap and sprint has us running about like an unorganised mess but Edward catches him out in the last second, both slamming into each other.

And my pretty little Saint is still smirking.

'Alice, curve it to the left.' I hush behind her ear as I quickly jog back to my own place. She wrinkles her nose (still testing out her code work theory) but I just roll my eyes and nod.

'Es, that's cheating.' Edward says disapprovingly though he's sharing my wicked smile.

'How is it?' I demand, eyebrow raised.

'He's right handed.'

'Only _technically_. I bet he's slightly ambidextrous!' Well… if he's taught himself to masturbate with his left hand than I believe it's only fair to challenge him.

'No he's not.'

'Edward, did you want to win or not?!'

He rolls his eyes. But his jaw drops open when, with an awkward startled realisation; Cullen manages to flick the angle of his bat and return the ball further up the field.

See! I fucking _knew_ it.

Edward quickly scrambles backwards to grab the ball, clashing with Emmett who manages to throw it my way where I'm just about the tap the base when a hand grabs the back of my thigh, dragging me down as we go sliding to the mud, my weight hard onto him.

'Shit, Hon- are you okay?!'

He's doing that painful groaning laugh again the one that reeks of revenge. He gives a weak thumbs up and grins. I grin back, relieved, the ends of my hair tickling his face as I lean over him.

'That was a total cheat by the way.' I murmur under my breath, shyly. 'You grabbed my leg.'

'Oh yeah? What about the batting to the left?!' He breathes heavily and lets me help him back to his feet, roughing up the back of his hair where his skull collided with the cement base. He wobbles a bit, maybe because he's still laughing, but reassures the crowd that he's fine.

'That was totally a foul.' I say to Bella when she appears up by Alice's side. Cullen stretches his leg, where he's apparently caught a painful strike of cramp and tentatively takes a step onto the foot though his face is scrunched up. I'm staying close by in case the bad leg loses its balance. Bella shrugs.

'Come on, Bella. I did _just_ fall over?' Says Cullen, offering a friendly smile.

'I guess-'

'Don't fall for it, it's his own fault he tripped!'

But she does fall for it- mainly because he has to sit out for the last bit- and awards him three runs- _THREE!_ And he didn't complete one! We're having enough trouble keeping up with Rose let alone this! But lucky for us, Alice is being biased….and making it difficult for her boyfriend to hit the ball. So we win, a nice 24-23 runs.

Emmett is overbearingly proud, promises to buy everyone a drink and gives Rosalie a woozy snog for winning. Cullen is still limping a bit and lets me help him hobble back to the car lot...until Alice insists Jasper takes over.

'See, that's the thing with you being the pitcher- you both won and lost.' I tell her. She loops and arm round mine slowing us down to a slower walk taking small little even steps like we're walking down an aisle.

'Es?'

Incoming, prepare yourself.

So I stop walking to look at her, halting in the middle of the stadium. Jasper is in front, bases in one arm, bats in the other and Emmett's hoisted Cullen into a piggy back though he's protesting loudly against it. His cheeks are as pink as mine but he suits them better than I do.

' _Be careful_ -'

'Alice- _NOTHING IS GOING ON_!'

MUCH.

'I never said there was!' She defends, hardly putting much effort in to convince me. 'All I was saying was be careful... and maybe stop flirting so blatently?'

'He totally fouled me!' I say quickly, feeling myself panic a little more.

'I know.' She sings.

'Girl. Just… _euuuurrrrrrrghhh_. I thought you _liked_ hanging out with Cullen!'

'I do.' She defends with a smile. 'Look, you're less of a slag already. You know we're meeting up and you've still worn ugly sweatpants.' Lycra sweatpants though I'm not going to correct her.

'I don't get it- you're not hounding me about Edward? And I spend as much time with him?' Practically….almost….maybe?

'Yes because Edward's got a girlfriend and knows what sex is!' She retorts, I'm too busy hiding from Carlisle's dark eyes to realise she's talking to me.

As for Edward- I have no fucking clue what his relationship status is right now so I'm staying out of that comment and hurriedly busy myself in Bella's enthusiasm for her book rather than the Pixie's constant questioning. One thing she's righ about- I need to stop. I can't keep looking at him in front of everyone. It'll cause too many questions. Which is the same lesson which goes out of my mind the moment I catch him grinning at me. _Me_.


	38. Reasons why silence is golden

_**Thank you for your thoughtful reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much- it's surely taken a lot of my attention to get it right. Please continue to leave your thoughts! Thanks!**_

* * *

Carlisle stays quiet since leaving the pitch and doesn't say much when we clamber into his car on the route to Alice's. He listens patiently to Edward, stuck in his own thoughts for a while as I wait for a spare moment together. It doesn't come so quickly. Though the time slips away every two minutes with my heavy eyelids dropping until eventually, there's a humorous chuckle in my ear.

'Why don't you go sit down?'

The voice catches me, the gentle laughter more so and I turn up to see the beautiful smirk on his face hidden behind a vale of tiredness. I look around Alice's empty kitchen, my hands are placed on the table, my ears listening out. He reads my confusion.

'The girls are sorting out bedding, the others have gone to pick up some dinner.'

'Oh.' I realise, groggily but he's still beaming at me. 'We're alone?'

He's flattered by the suggestion, listens out so that we can hear the excited chatter of Rose complaining and hesitantly stoops to plant a kiss to my hairline before pulling away again.

'How were the kids?' He asks, sincerely. I yawn, my posture slump as I lean further into the wooden chair of her kitchen, my back breaking.

'As good as ever- though I'm worried Johnathan is ill. He was very quiet today.'

'Teething?' He guesses. I shrug slightly and rub my eyes. 'And your submission piece?'

I groan this time, running my fingers through the front of my braid so that several loose waves fall out. 'They're going to call me. It's part of their _'marketing process_ '.'

'Oh?' He's frowning as he stands above me and I'm grateful he looks as wary as I feel. With a tired and irritable expression, I nod.

'Before you ask: yes, the process does affect my application.'

'How peculiar?' He complains, his beautiful expression disturbed with the intrusion of his exhaustion. 'What about for artists like Van Gogh? His genius wasn't recognised until after his death?'

'Not helping, Carlisle.'

Though I am grateful he pronounced the name the way I would: a silent end instead of a tough _'gh'_. He takes another risk while we're alone and carefully brushes his fingertips along the shoulder of my jacket, alerting me awake again with a smooth touch. Whether to brush dirt off or act as a sign of comfort, I'm not sure, either way I can't help but fawn. I have to force myself not to lean into his warmth.

'What about your father?' I ask, making a severe effort to actively ask because I'm not sure he'd say otherwise. 'Did he tell you what he wants?'

'The impression I gather is that he wants help setting up. But you really don't have to attend if you'd rather not- I was only teasing.'

I push out my chair to attempt to stand but my strength diminishes with my fatigue until he poses a hand at my elbow to catch me.

'Seriously, Es. Go sit down?'

'I know I don't have to but I would like to.' I answer, ignoring the lateness of the reply and doing, for once, as he asks.

Alice's sofa is not like our one at home. It's leather, colder and seats more people. Tiredly, I take the middle seat and gesture for him to take the end space. His feet are slow to move, wary I would assume, as he sits and angles himself away from me though his expression is tilted.

'How recently did they leave?' I whisper, indicating the upstairs front door. His eyes slip to his watch.

'About five minutes ago?'

'How good is your hearing?' I probe a little more cautiously. I know the answer anyway. He responds with a tired frown.

'Impeccable, why?'

'Tell me if Alice comes?' I ask, leaning over to kiss his smooth cheek before changing my posture to settle into his lap.

'What for- _Es_?!'

I curl up on my side, laying the side of my face, not in his lap as he so _dangerously fears_ , but close to his knee and let my sore eyes respond instinctively in closing. What did he think I was going to do?

'You're playing with fire, my Love.'

My mouth moves into a familiar smile as his soothing words skim over my back.

'Thank you for my dress, Carlisle…' I murmur, my breaths already becoming heavy to match the rest of my body. The pictures on the television in front have become an indistinguishable blur, only worsening my exhaustion and paving the way to dreamland.

'You've already thanked me?'

'But I didn't mean it then.' I mutter sleepily, the thick material of his jeans comforting along my blush. 'I mean it now: Thank you.'

He combs through the escaped strands of my hair, the heel of his hand resting against the back of my neck, warm though not intrusive. I didn't even notice him get changed but I can smell the foreign soap in his scent and feel the jeans rough against my cheek. Until a fingertip traces down the other one that is. Then that's the only thing I can feel.

'It's the least I could do.'

'You didn't have to do anything. I would attend the damn thing even if it meant missing out on… something- I don't know. I can't think of a good analogy.' I complain, another yawn taking over my body as I shudder into him. 'You get the point.'

'You're a lot more convincing when you're not mumbling…' He teases, sweetly but the hand stops moving and he regretfully sighs. 'Alice is coming…'

'Urgh.' I pull myself up before he can and stare absently at the TV.

'Why did you turn the sound off?' Alice asks, confused, skipping into the living room with a bundle of bedding in her small arms. 'Anyway- the boys are in here, we're in my room.'

I nod, barely involved enough to add a smile as she tends to the DVD box. I don't see what she puts on, I don't notice anything except that I can feel Carlisle's arm resting close to my forearm accidentally touching me on every exhale he gives. I only survive a few extra minutes of consciousness.

The boys and Bella come rushing in upstairs like a stampede to the front door, grabbing and emptying food onto plates into the living room for mass consumption. Carlisle and I haven't moved. We're in the perfect state of dead exhaustion, silent yet absent from all conversation. The last thing I remember is leaning into the arm against mine. I take one last look at whatever shitty horror film someone has put on, pass the opening credits and eventually submit to the desperate need for sleep.

* * *

My back hurts. I think that's something I'm allowed to complain about because it means I'm atoning for my sins. Though I don't like the rest of the conversation that seems to bubble about my ears.

'But they missed the whole plot. _Both_ plots, in fact!'

'That's what happens when you have a full time job?' Jasper chuckles and I'm glad it's him defending us this time and not leaving it to Edward. That's getting awkward enough as it is.

'Pretty sure there's some ice in your freezer, Alice?' And the loud laughter following the comment assures me that it's Emmett's suggestion.

'Anyone tries that and I will personally drown them in the bath tub.' I mumble bitterly. Now aware to their voices, I reluctantly pull myself up to rub at my eyes, squint from the remaining light and hold my sore head.

'Sleeping Beauty awakes!' Cheers Alice. I shift closer to Edward in response suddenly aware of the drastic change of position. Carlisle has his right knee hooked on the space my body has left him. He's wedged into the corner, tightly curled from where I was laid on him. I look immediately to Edward in horror but he defeats my panic with none other than a simple sentence.

'That's what you get being a junior Doctor- you'll crash just about anywhere.'

Carlisle's still asleep, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest, his hair slipping to his face. I smile gratefully at the youngest of our trio.

'What time is it?' I ask, my voice thick.

'Eleven. We were actually heading to bed?' Alice murmurs, standing at the edge of the sofa with Bella behind her. The laptop is on the table and Edward looks relatively relaxed enough to assure me her essay done. I nod, taking Rosalie's hand to help pull me from my little cocoon of warmth, back onto the solid ground.

'Night all.' I yawn and with that I follow the girls into Alice's room and fall immediately to the blow-up bed on the floor.

Much to my surprise it's Bella who perches on the end, her hair in a ponytail and her cheeks pink for no real reason. I adjust my posture to allow her space in case she wants to share the bed with me but she stays perched.

'How's your head?' She begins, her smile gentle.

'Fine.' I murmur, still exhausted and still ready for the joy that is the silence of sleep but then I'm worried this is rude and grimace. 'The stitches will be gone soon, I reckon.'

She doesn't say much in reply, just nods absently until bravery claims her of course.

'I was just wondering if I could…?' She nods to the side of the bed that I'm not taking up. I laugh softly.

'That _is_ why I moved over?'

'Sure I'm not intruding?'

I don't know how good her maths skills are but considering there's two beds and four spaces, I'm wondering what her other plan is? Nevertheless, I don't grant the question a good enough answer, I just smile and wait for Alice to return so I can borrow something to wear to bed.

She hasn't got anything that'll fit so she hands me one of Jasper's shirts and apologises profusely. It feels like I'm intruding being in his clothes. That and I don't like the smell. It's too sweet but the kind that would make you feel sick after too many mouthfuls.

Five minutes go by, ten and eventually twenty minutes have taken their pass when all in the room are asleep. I try to join them but it doesn't happen. An hour passes, my exhaustion becoming impatience when I hear a familiar cough followed by perhaps a complaint. I listen for a while, desperate for further proof he is awake but there's only the soft sound of breathing.

I wait even longer for exhaustion to take me, growing annoyed as time ticks. Until I give in. I go to pick up my phone from the table but as I do so, it buzzes in my hand. I turn it over to read the screen. The words pretty much confirm my assumptions- I'm not going to be sleeping now.

 _The floor is far more uncomfortable than you think._

I try to hold in my giggle but it unconsciously escapes and though I'm concerned about waking people up, I also like the idea that he can hear me from the room away.

 _I thought you were on the sofa?_ I type back. _And asleep_. I add.

 _I've been both awakened and vacated. Hence the uncomfortable floor_.

 _Your bed would be far better_. I type back and though I try to stop myself, I can't help but send a winking emoji to him.

 _I concur. Though, what's with the brackets?_

Again, I laugh. _Turn your phone to the right._

 _Very sweet, my apologies._

 _If you feel like getting up to date with the rest of the world, there's plenty more cartoons beneath the face button?_ I respond sending another stupid semi-colon and a closed bracket so he grows used to the image. My phone vibrates again.

 _Moving past my technical inabilities, I'm partly wishing we hadn't fallen asleep so soon. I'm struggling to get back to it._

Part of me wishes I hadn't slept so brazenly against him in front of everyone else. Part of me wishes I'd never agreed to this dumb sleepover. The baseball was fun, sure, now I just want a bath. And a bed. And a gorgeous partner to share that bed with.

 _So am I, it's so uncomfortable sleeping with Bella. I feel like I'm going to crush her._ I am most definitely going to crush her.

 _I can empathise with that._

 _I'm not that much smaller than you_. I complain.

 _Perhaps not so much in height, though I nightly fear that you will be crushed under my weight._

 _Doesn't sound like such a bad thing?_ I tease him, hearing the gentle vibration in the other room. He doesn't reply for a moment. So I send another winking emoji. His chuckle is sweet.

 _As much as I would love to return to the path this conversation is heading towards, I fear it is not the best idea. I hope you sleep well. Xxxx_

Four _x's_ , huh? The same four signs of affection from his handwriting now immortalised in technology. Two modes of writing and both blessed with those pathetically sweet letters.

 _You too. Sweet dreams._ Then I deliberately take his style and change it just to test the reaction... _XXxx_

 _Goodnight Xxxx._ He types back, those last three letters standing firm as they refuse to submit to peer pressure.

 _Night_. I reply. Snarky.

 _I hope you also have sweet dreams. XXxx_ Aha! Success! He conceded!

 _If you don't stop texting me, I'm coming in there and shutting you up. XXxx_ In the most devious way possible, I swear.

 _Doesn't sound like such a bad thing? XXxxx_ He playfully quotes.

Five? He's jumped the border and gone for _five_?! _Five_ symbolic references to a kiss. Does that equal five kisses? Or five counts of love? Or five counts of affection? Am I looking too much into this? Five of them! And two of them bigger. I usually hate wasting space with the useless inclusion of _X's_. It really is just a sad and sorry act. However, now I'm desperate to see whether the additional _X_ is a slight of hand or if it is genuine?

 _I think this is one of those moments when you need to imagine the tone of my voice when I say your name? XXxxx_

 _I'm somewhat displeased. I thought you'd like my communicating Xxxxxxxxxxx._

IN CONJUNCTION WITH A HEART! HE'S JUST USED A HEART EMOJI! Oh Jesus, he's so bloody adorable! I can't- fuck sleeping in here, it's not half as good.

 _Is everyone asleep_? I type to him, surprisingly urgent.

 _If you can't hear that snoring, I suggest an Otolaryngologist. I'm tempted to sleep in the car._ And this time, he stays in the lines of safety and steers clear from the added letters. It makes my heart hurt.

The phone buzzes in my hand again but I turn it face down on the carpet and look at the girls. They're asleep, I know they're asleep. Yet I still wait an extra fifteen minutes to assure myself of it. Then, I quietly leave the room, take the few steps to the living room and silently cross over to the window.

Carlisle was right. The boys are asleep and loudly so. They're turned towards the kitchen; Edward and Jasper in the armchairs as Emmett takes up the sofa. Carlisle is beneath the window, the steetlight's glow shining over his face and making his hair brighter. He's got an arm up behind his head, a duvet resting along his midriff as he sleeps in a black T-shirt.

His eyes are closed so I imbed myself quietly on the wooden floor. I'm facing him though he isn't facing me, my legs hidden under the blanket and my hand underneath my cheek as I stare at him. He sighs, his chest rising, his hair slipping before shifting to face me. I stay very still, concerned he's going to freak but instead, he smirks, fisting the duvet in his grip and dragging it up to my back, intentionally drawing me closer.

'I thought you were-?'

'Shh.' He says softly and I know he means because of the boys.

I stare at him for a few moments longer and let my eyes close. A warm hand is stroking along my jaw so I open them to find his dark blue eyes locked in mine as he grins.

'You said _shh_?'

But he silences me by leaning over. He brushes his teasing mouth over mine, his fingertips stroking my cheeks until he bows his head to kiss me. He's silent, pouring all his energy into the mouth on mine rather than murmuring. He's captivating, burning my lips with a searing kiss. Too quickly, he leans away but I grasp his shirt and hold him to me, my hand tugging into his hair as he works our mouths together. I take the initiative and battle his tongue to which he volts at. He protests delicately, eyes cast to the sleeping group.

'You'll just have to be quiet then.'

His groans are soft as he takes my mouth and leans over me, his tongue slick and hot, making my body tense underneath him. He kisses me fiercely. He's passionate and longing as our breath melts into one and his tongue flicks dire excitement into every nerve of my body. I move his hand closer to me, to the aching longing but he pulls away to bite his lip and look towards the boys.

So I take a moment to look at them, too. They're loud sleepers and either sleep on their front, like Emmett, or on their sides, their faces covered either by furniture or bedding. Carlisle should be debating. He _should_ be discouraging this. He _should_ be sobering my every word. Instead he reminds me to be silent, a finger resting on his mouth before turning it and encouraging me closer.

Shivers coarse along my back and I hurriedly push him, climbing over to sit in his lap, my knees at his waist. He settles himself comfortably, reaching up with an urgency to kiss me back. The flat of my hand pushes his shoulder down, my lips stealing his air and offering my own in return. He rests his grip along my spine, squirming as our clothes press against each other. I'm sitting on him. On his dick. And that's enough to kick start the hormones.

He kisses me again, quietly but focused, holding my weight and balancing his own as he steadies me. My hands started at his thick hair but the more he gives, the more I take until they're on a path of their own. They're at his shoulders, holding us together. Pressed against his back, squeezing the cotton. They're moving lower, detailing every part of him until they stop at the bottom hem of the shirt. The cotton is soft, the scent of our floral washing powder rich while I impatiently tug at cloth. He knows what I want but for the first time, I'm almost too shy to put it in place. I don't want to take the right from him. So my thumb just stops, hovering over the exposed strip of his abdomen between fabric and boxers; impatient, hurried and yet suffering from stage fright.

He looks down my nose, taking a quick touch of my mouth before crossing his arms and jerking his shirt over his head. Adorably, he ends up roughing up his hair as he puts both hand and shirt at my back. I stutter, my hands sliding over his marbled shoulders, into the ends of his hair as I press his torso to mine.

'You're beautiful, Carlisle.' I mutter against his mouth. 'You're so-'

'Shh, Hon.'

With a hand gentle at my neck, he holds my mouth to his, sensual, gentle but I can't help it. My tongue slips over his and he winces, drawing his groin away from me. The boys are still snoozing, they're captivated in their exhaustion and they're perfectly distracted but he's frowning delicately, eyes closed.

'Do you me want to stop?'

'No.' He whispers. With him perfectly under me, my hips move instinctively, deliberately grinding against him. He gasps so I throw my mouth to his to silence the excitement bubbling about our lips.

He's erect under me. Hard and thick and so _well-endowed_ that it makes my belly fizz. The only thing separating us is the stupid necessity of fabric. I slide myself against him again, shuddering at the euphoric introductions, desperate to give him more. Resting my forehead against his as he breathes heavily, I let my left hand slip down the back of his neck. He shivers around me, his mouth pressing harder into mine, my hand gripping tighter.

'Es-' He winces, resting with me so perfectly in his lap, so obviously feeling him, but he leans away, his hands falling to my hips but not touching them. I flick a quick look to them all to prove my assumptions of their unconsciousness. When I face him, he's biting his lip. So I lean to kiss him again. He's forcing an unnatural distance.

'I want to...' he starts delicately.

'So do I.' I lean into him, my chest against his. The sound of grimace fluttering against my throat and before he can stop himself, he gently marks my neck with his lips.

'Are you _sure_?'

The words fall into silence as I pull the t-shirt over my head, too, throwing it to his feet and watching the way my chest rises to every needy breath I take. It felt weird wearing it anyway and not at all as sexy knowing it was offered rather than stolen. And not from the gentleman in question.

Carlisle has thrown his head away from looking at me but the swell from underneath my legs shifts. While his head is tilted, I take the opportunity to kiss along his jaw, slow, sweet movements that are bitterly brief. He swallows, the Adam's apple lowering to accommodate my touch. His clasped hands tighten at the base of my spine, wrenching me closer - so I move against him, gently hushing any sounds and roaming my hands either across his pale torso, or into the lose waves of his light hair. As hot as I know he is, the dark of the room means it makes far more sense to stare where the last of the light is directed, which is at his face.

'I can stop?' I offer carefully, pausing by his ear, still hunched towards him. He whines delicately again, gently pulling away to eradicate any insincerity when he looks at me full on. Urgh, does he have any idea how sexy that is?

'No.' He decides with a mischievous smile.

I smile back, pulling his chin towards me so I can bury my mouth in his. While he's half distracted I encourage his hand towards me. I settle it on my shoulder, match his feather light tongue with mine and lower my stance. He doesn't understand. So I curl his hand underneath the bra strap and let it slide off but he catches it and returns it. I look at him, mildly concerned. His eyes are closed, his dark lips parted.

'Not tonight?' He pleads, gently laughing.

'You don't want to?' I whisper, panting for him.

'I'd never forgive myself if we woke them up…' He hushes and I think it's obvious, that I don't understand. 'Though admittedly, my hypocrisy is evident from you wearing that God-awful thing.' I watch his disapproval to the shirt at his feet and feel my smile grow.

'So you _are_ jealous.' I tease.

He guiltily nods his head, his cheeks flushed. I can't tell if that is from nerves or excitement. He's hot underneath my touch, sweating almost, so I squeeze the hand beneath my own, shuddering when he fingers the straps. My hips move instinctively, our lower material grinding upon each other so that he inhales sharply.

'Es, please, I'm gunna-' He tries to settle down again but I soon realise he's trembling against me, his perfectly marbled skin delicate under my own suggestions.

'I'm sorry.' I whisper, watching the sternness of his face disrupt his beauty. I gently press a pout to the middle of the crease then another to his nose. 'I'm sorry, I'll stop.'

'What can I do?' He asks softly, still holding me to him and ignoring how unbelievably desperate he's making me.

'Hmm?'

'I don't want this to be a waste- show me how to make you feel good?' He begs, kissing along my jaw illegally. His hands stay pinned, one underneath mine on my shoulder and the other resting by my hip.

'Why would this be a waste?' I ask, confused but one of the boys louder snores makes us both jump and when he believes to safe to do so- he chuckles.

'Hon... I'm not going to last three seconds with you sitting on me?' Those gorgeous eyes flicker to other side of the room briefly and pleased, they joyfully read over my expression. I don't think I've seen a mouth so kissable.

'So?' I interrupt him. 'Making you feel good, that's what I want. That's how to make me feel good.'

His lips are wet on mine, thoughtful yet lost in their drive for more. His sweet mint cologne bites along my flesh, my tongue salivating against his as he yields more, gives more-.

'The bra stay on.' He warns huskily, humming as his hand glides devilishly down my side and up again. I shiver into him, loving the excitement it gives when I brush against him. He jolts, breathing in sharply. 'For the sake of my dignity at least?'

'You drive a _hard_ bargain.' I commend, grinning but he reaches up, his hands centred on the roots of my hair as I hover over him, flyaway pieces wisping along his face.

He smiles, mouth moving along my cheek before capturing my lips. Expertly, his tongue sends more of my nerves into overdrive and carefully, with the dedication of a Saint, he very rolls his hips. I gasp, breathing his chuckle and dragging him closer.

 _'Shhh_.'

'Do you really want this?' I pant. 'Or are you just shutting me up?'

'Esme.' He complains, frowning. 'It's obligatory for me to resist a little. On occasion of-' He looks to the cluster of men and shakes his head awkwardly. It's a good reminder to be quiet, one we keep forgetting. Though I know for a fact you could set their beds alight and they wouldn't notice. It's been done.

'Am I making you uncomfortable?' I ask quietly but he responds with another grin.

'Yes.' He says, face serious but gorgeous in the light. 'Very much so…' And to illustrate his point he moves against me. Further sounds fall out of my mouth but he contently kisses my lips.

'I'm not-' He stops, frowns again and lowers his lips to my ear. _'I won't make love to you_ … Not tonight.' If he wasn't denying me, I would be sure that this would have me melting on the spot for him. I'm two seconds away from doing it anyway.

'How about-?'

'I'm not going to fuck you either. Or any of the above…'

I pout at him, playful though his gentle smile is enough to give in to his restrictions. Even while sweating, with his blonde locks curving around his damp forehead, his mint breath biting into my lip, his pale complexion and blushing cheeks- he is the single most beautiful person I have ever seen.

'However-' He whispers, grinning playfully. 'Anything you would like me to do- _within reason_ \- and I'm yours?'

'Really?'

'But you have to be quiet…' he laughs, invading my tongue with his so that I'm whimpering almost. 'Quieter than _that_ , my love.'

And in a moment of frustration, I nudge his shoulder so that he falls to his back, laying comfortably with a smart grin on his mouth. His touch is teasingly soft and his muscles so- _urgh_. I run a palm along his hard stomach, brushing it up and squeezing at his flesh before dragging it down the very middle of his chest.

'Believe me Doctor Cullen, if anyone is needing to be quiet…' My hand trickles lower so that he squirms uncomfortably but doesn't shift away. It stops at his naval, circling to the fine line of hair leading to his boxers, close to a faded hidden scar at his waistline. 'It's _you_.'

With his eyes on mine, I gently cup him through the underwear. He groans throatily so that I'm forced to snog him unless he wants to get caught. He's so thick under my hand, I briefly wonder if it'll take two of my hands to take a full hold of him. The thought makes me shiver.

He submits to my lead without submission, he surrenders without surrendering and he concedes without conceding. He encourages my tongue to take dominance and from under, soaks in everything I give him. He holds himself to me, drawing me even closer, moaning lightly when I flex my hold on him and tenderly squeeze his balls. His mouth moves to replicate the perfect 'O', vocalising his need.

'Shh, my love.' And tasting those words finally explains why he says it. Calling him my love. It's like sending him further into a circle of desire as he begs for my attention. It's like making him _mine_.

'Esme.' He pleads. 'I can't- I'm going to-. _Ugh_.' He drops his head back to the floor, chest rising fiercely, his hips desperate to grasp rhythm.

'Shh.' I remind him, soothingly. I grip my hand tighter on his shorts, palming him and sending him into chaos as he sears his lips with my name. He tries to pull me closer, his hands slick, his body writhing under my touch. I know what he wants, I can feel it, read it on his mouth, taste it when I kiss him.

'You're so hot.'

'Huh?' He pants.

'Seeing you like this.' I grasp him harder, kissing the base of throat when he breathes harder. 'You. Turn. Me. On.'

'As you were saying with sweet nothings, my love...' he manages to tell me through unsettled pleasures of air. 'I'm much the same?'

He winces even harder when I tighten my hand, trying to stay quiet while communicating such gratitude simultaneously. I lay a gentle kiss above his collar bone, travelling to his ear and encouraging his body reactions to my grip. 'You don't have-'

'You want proof?' I ask, seductively.

He bites his lip, trying to shake his head but he can't bring himself to it. So he just pours his effort into kissing me again. It's overwhelming how much I want him and yet, how much I want him to feel good- great, even. I stop the teasing abruptly, kissing him hard to ensure all is fine.

'Give me your hand.'

He gently frowns but looks momentarily relieved for the break in torture as he evens out his lungs. He's playfully slow as he reaches his left hand out, offering it as though he's asking to hold mine.

'And you _really_ want me to feel good?' I whisper. He nods fervently, his fringe slipping again.

'More than-'

I outline his mouth with my own, leaning my torso over to him and dragging his hand over the cup of the bra to skirt along the top of my breast. His response is to explore my mouth, angling his face to let his tongue slide against mine and make me crave more. I tighten his hand on my skin, murmur encouragingly when he sharply inhales and pull myself up from him.

'Are you oka-?'

To shush him, I pull his thumb to my mouth, kiss the padding softly. I kiss the detail of his hands and let his fingers press gently into my lips. He's staring at me, blue eyes so dark that I feel another thrill of excitement ease into my body as he watches. I return to his thumb. Kissing it along the length, parting my lips and he acts instinctively. He's careful, his fingers, now under my chin, lifting my face as he caresses the inside of my lip. I lick the curve, grinning as feels along the edges of my teeth and then I take him into my mouth.

His sigh rushes out, my tongue now soaking his digit in the mix of our saliva, coating it and sucking on him. I don't think he knows what to do, except be aroused, so he just stares, occasionally rubbing a hand along the back of my knee, gazing intently.

When I unleash him, his face is so contorted that I can't tell if he's trying not to blow his load or if he's unsure about what he's witnessed. His thumb is glistening with moisture so I gently lower it to the edge of the material, the same breast he kneaded. His eyes are hooded as I raise an eyebrow. He raises his lips to collide with mine and doing so, I drag his hand so that the heel of it pulls down the bra cup. Moving delicately, I press his wet pad against my erect nipple.

I can't tell who gasps first. Both perhaps, as the sensation ripples through to my core. His tongue moves deeper, involuntarily lifting his hips and with such a torturous hand he rubs moisture into my aching breast, gentle in his touch but so profusely intoxicating.

'You're beautiful.' He utters, shuddering a little as I encourage his hand to work against my chest. The unashamed pleasure waves through as he brushes against a particular sweet spot and I push myself to him.

'Shh.' I beg him, and in a fluid movement I secure my leg tighter over his, adjusting my hips. He bites his lip again but doesn't stop the roll of his thumb, teasing and encouraging my performance of arousal despite the company. Though our company seem very unaware.

'Don't stop?' I plead, tenderly returning the shape of his lips but leaning away slightly.

'Why would I stop?' He questions, settling his free hand behind my hip and holding us steady. I keep one hand behind his head, fiddling with the damp hair, tightening a grip and while he continues to tantalize my breast, pull at the nipple and grope at the skin, I gently rub along his dick through his boxers. He bites his lip, still as fiercely hard and aroused as he was a moment ago, trembling almost.

I kiss him, lingering longer than necessary to bear weight on where he craves movement. I line his lip with my tongue, push my nipple into his hold and urgently pull on his waistband so that his cock is exposed.

 _Sweet Lord._

'Fuck me.'

It's literally the only words I have because even in the dark, he's fucking glorious. A little daunting perhaps in size but still a compliment to all body of man. Everything about him is a sculpture. Except this. You couldn't sculpt it- no rendition would look as perfect. And for a shape which frankly, shouldn't look attractive, I start to drool a little more. All over.

'A-are you okay?' He asks nervous under my gaze.

'Of _course_ you'd have a cock like that. Anything else and I think I'd doubt your higher status and class you as human.'

He crumbles a little, smiling awkwardly so I lean against him, letting him press against my stomach as I secure his lower lip between mine.

'At least I wasn't lying?' He whispers and I deliberately look down to confirm him. He's right. Cullen has foreskin.

'You're incredible.' I murmur.

'I've seen better.' He says, shrugging and it takes for him to knead my skin to realise he's complimenting me.

'If you want me to stop, tell me.' I remind him, staying serious for just a second. I don't just want him hard, anymore. I want him coming. _Because_ of me. He nods, looking briefly alarmed though he relaxes at my wicked smile. 'Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.'

I take a firm hold of him beneath me, squeezing slightly at the base to assert my torment. He shudders benath, rushes of air catching in his throat as he desperately tries to slow himself down. Carefully, delicately, with a tight grasp, I move my hand: Dragging his foreskin down so he's fully exposed before pulling it up again. His left hand tightens, gripping my arousal as I repeat my action on his, faster this time. He stutters, but I keep my hand moving, lengthening him in front of me, my own warmth spreading as he tries to stay silent.

'You okay?' I ask, quieter than before.

'Keep going.' He begs, his chin rising as I grasp onto his thick girth, squeezing, teasing and pleasing all in that order. His hips come up to increase my rhythm but I secure his seat and close my grip, pumping faster, kissing his sweet moans from his lips.

' _'Stop'_ was that?' I whisper, slowing. He tenses, lifting himself to me, begging, caressing his hands into my skin, holding me onto him.

'Please.' He utters.

'Please continue?'

'Just kiss me.' He corrects, eyes still tightly closed.

So I do, I press my skin against his flushed body and work open his mouth with my tongue. He whines against our movements but stays gentle. As a reward- I speed up. I fist his cock a little harder, moving it between our skin, shifting my weight against him. His lips clasp mine desperately, holding onto the closure of my grip as my fingers feel every ridge of him. His breaths heat my tongue, his hips rolling just slightly so that I feel his whole length.

He pours his effort into worshiping me, commending my hands and making love to my name and my tongue with his tasteful lips. As asked, he doesn't stop. He soaks me in, burning me with his natural scent, his thumb and forefinger rolling my nipple, deliciously clamped between his touch. I keep my hand moving, jerking him to a high point. His body tenses underneath me, trembling when the curve of my grip catches over the head. He gasps, throatily, unaware and as the sound cuts the atmosphere, both of us freeze.

Emmett has started to cough. Lightly at first though it grows more dramatic as we stay immobilised against each other. He's tenses beneath me, his dick throbbing in my palm as his chest expands rapidly, heavy against my own. Emmett's still coughing, verging on consciousness and with a guilty expression, I smile weakly at my Saint. He had his eyes closed but now he's looking at me, the blue heavy in need but his heart eliciting the same concern as mine.

While still hard, I let go of him, press onto him with my stomach so that his eyes roll back unthinkingly and delicately kiss his lips. He wants to whine, it's his first instinct, the groan getting stuck in his throat as he frowns.

Emmett is really coughing now, leaning up off his front, holding his head. Blue orbs, alarmed, hold my stance and regretfully, he drops his hand from my breast, encouraging me up with gentle urges. I grab his T-shirt with one hand, standing up quickly and slinking it on. My legs struggle to bear my weight, wobbling but somehow silent on the floorboards. The duvet he's bunched up around himself, attention drawn to the third person as I delicately slip back into Alice's room just in enough time.

'It's stifling in here, Man. Can you open a window or something?'

I'm hidden behind the wooden door, my hand against my pounding heart as I listen out. Carlisle is struggling to talk and from what I gather, prefers to reply in gentle affirmations rather than actual words. He's breathy, light in speech but Emmett is none the wiser, still coughing and struggling to recover from it.

'I'm sorry for waking you, it's just insane in here.'

'Mm hmm.' Carlisle responds gently and I'm jealous that I can't see his expression from the gap between the door and wall. I'm also pissed that I can't get to grip his hair, move against him, make him feel good.

'No wonder you took your shirt off. It's like a freakin' sauna!'

'Night, Em…'

Hilariously, Emmett doesn't stop there, he continues for another ten minutes, wrenching the window open, complaining and such. From what I eventuallu gather, either they slip into sleep, or he simply pretends to do so for the ease of recovering composure.

Getting sleep that night is far more difficult the second time round. Even with the girl's presence disturbing every moment of sleep, I'm still stuck on the residue of his touch on my flesh. The burning in the sensitive areas, his heartbeat thudding into mine, him in my grasp, my name on his tongue. It makes me feel guilty. I didn't want to tease him, I genuinely wanted to send him over the edge. I wanted to bring him to peace.

Typical how things work out.

* * *

'Don't tell me you're actually awake before me?'

I watch those pink lips whisper, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes still closed. I stretch a little, reaching a hand up to stretch out and grin. He closes the kitchen door quietly behind him, smartly dressed in his suit with his badge hanging out of his breast pocket. He looks tired, sounds tired though it's hidden under his sweet features. I don't reply yet, just continue circling my coffee cup with a finger before shrugging shyly, still dressed in just his T-shirt.

'When do you start?' I ask softly despite knowing the answer.

It's the only reason I'm up this early, because I _have_ to see him off. I have to see what he's thinking after yesterday. I've turned my torso towards him to take his smile in. It's curved, an awkward line reaching from one side of his face to the other, his nose long, his eyelashes brushing against his skin.

'Eight thirty.' He murmurs, gaze flicking up behind me to look at the clock.

The light from the open window glares into him, briefly making his dark blue eyes into that of a sky blue. He blinks a few more times, the light changing to normal. I can't quite understand the movement between us. It's the first night since being in each other's presence that we'd slept alone and I'm regretting the loss.

I'm also regretting trying something on in front of company.

'And finish?' I ask. He reaches into his back pocket to pick up his phone, looking sleepily at the numbers before turning it off.

'Five thirty.' He's coming up close to me now, stepping forward carefully as if he's frightened I might scarper. For no real reason, the nearer he gets, the heavier my heart beats until finally, he has his lips to my forehead, placing a delicate and sweet kiss to the skin. 'Are you staying?'

It's a fight to stop my hands from pulling him towards me, from recreating last night but with a happy ending. I wonder if he's thinking the same. He breathes in again before pulling himself up and shaking out his hair. It was messy anyway, but with his fingers through it, he's managed to disturb the locks further.

'Are you going to make me a better offer?' I retort, grinning. He thinks for a minute, unsure, surprised by my words before reaching his phone and tilting his head to look at the screen again.

'How fast can you get ready?' He asks, his eyebrows raised hopefully. I grin, push him away a little and jump up, throwing myself into the act of getting ready before even understanding why I'm doing it.

* * *

He parks up a little far off town, close to the hospital but not actually within the grounds. We walk slowly to the café, like we always do when we walk but because it's a nice morning, if not a little breezy, we decide to sit outside. He orders quickly, two warm coffees, his sweeter than mine, a blueberry muffin and a little cup of instant porridge for himself.

He passes the warm cup over, settling into the plastic chair, his eyes on the cobblestones highstreets and the aged shops, smiling gently.

'You look like an artist this morning.' He says and I smile a little more because he's not even looking my way.

I'm wearing my same sneakers, a pair of skinny jeans, a white T-shirt and my leather jacket with a purple scarf hanging fashionably around my neck. My hair is a little different this morning. The natural waves are soft and I've pulled them into a high ponytail out of my eyes but there's a stubborn piece of my fringe which keeps getting in the way.

'I was channelling rock chic?' I mock, taking a sip of the coffee and wiping Alice's lip gloss off the lid. He's suddenly looking at me, smiling like he always does but with his head gently tilted. 'What?'

But he plays dumb and shakes his head, gently.

'What?' I insist but that makes him smile more, reaching his hand across to the table to grab his breakfast and stir its stubborn contents.

'You're wearing make-up today?'

I pick up the muffin, smelling it first before breaking it in half and picking at one side.

'Is that bad?' I ask. He shakes his head.

'Is there a particular reason?'

'No.' I say but the word comes out in a higher tone than I'd meant. His smile grows.

'You're just as beautiful without it.' He promises and I deliberately roll my eyes at him.

'Look at that: Seven in the morning and you've already started with the compliments.'

'Is that bad?' He asks.

'Just different.' I say. 'Just very different.'

He takes a sip of his coffee before leaning in his chair, an arm over the back, smiling. I've already come to learn this look so without pause I roll my eyes.

'Go on then, what is it?'

'Is it that obvious?' He asks,

I nod again, picking up the pieces of cake and carefully dropping them onto my tongue. Blueberry muffins have been my favourite for as long as I can remember, not just because they taste sweet without being heavy, but because they always smell amazing. I'd wear it as perfume if I could. He's smirking my way.

'About last night…'

'I should've predicted this is where we were going, shouldn't I?' I ask, chewing quietly on a bit of food. Even without looking I can feel his smile light my cheeks like the sun would do.

'Thank you…'

This catches me off guard and I find that when I look at him, my eyebrows are fused together. 'But we didn't-'

He half shrugs again, staring at his coffee before turning that same squint to the shop opposite us.

'For whatever happened, it was unexpected but…' He doesn't finish his sentence. Or rather he does but with shy laughter.

It seems especially as of recent that snogging him is the only way to come to explanations quickly. So that's happens. He leans towards me, asking delicately with his eyebrow raised and I kiss him, soft lips moving like silk against mine, his hand in my hair securing me into his embrace.

'We should've been at home.' I murmur, guiltily, secretly concerned that this is the reason for my lost voice. I fiddle a little more with the lid of the coffee before letting the steam burn my tongue. 'It was pretty unfair to drag you down in front of-'

'Not at all. It added to the danger factor.' He grins again, perfectly charming as if the night had been better than expected and he was actually pleased by the lost outcome. I want to kiss him again but I want him to know it more than I actually want to set it in place. 'You're so mischievous…'

'That's a good thing, right?'

'The best.' He agrees. He takes a careful bite of his breakfast, cringing at the taste but doing as he always does and powering through several more heaped spoonfuls. 'Though you certainly know how send someone into overdrive.'

'Oh yeah?' I challenge, still trying to keep my voice low despite the empty space surrounding us.

He snorts with laughter, picking up his cup and looking at it from all sides before sipping it thoughtfully. He's trying to say something, I can see it in the way his words hesitate out his mouth and he catches them before he can go too far.

'Up until last night I couldn't see how you'd exceed yourself. Not after handcuffing me to a bed and giving me, what I had _foolishly believed_ , was the most outrageous hard-on I thought I'd ever have.' He reminds me, confidently sucking his spoon in a way that is torturous. I bite my lip.

'I'm really sorry?' Kind of-not really. My hand is caught on the cup's side in hopes it'll warm up my hands. There's no in-between, it either burns through every layer of my skin or it does the complete opposite and leaves it cold.

'Or dropping your towel in the middle of my room?' He sees me grin and returns it. 'Then yesterday, rather obviously.'

We both hum, laughing gently before my curiosity wreaks havoc. I'm still nibbling at my breakfast, trying hard to seem like Little Miss Coy and wondering how successful I am. 'So… how many times have I given you a hard-on?'

'Too many to count.' He responds quickly, as if he had this answer prepared. A playful grin warms his face, covering the lack of sleep once more.

'And the first time?' I press, leaning heavily on the table with my hands stretched towards him. His smile crumbles a little and he reaches his hand across the table to line it against my older grazes. The smell of coffee in conjunction with his aftershave is playing with my nose, making me crave it from a closer distance. I stroke a finger along one of his.

'The first time?' He repeats, moaning in a manner which reinforced the memory of last night. 'Jesus, Hon. _Years_ ago.'

'It was?' I encourage. Under the table my leg seeks his, my ankle wrapping tighter around his but more for comfort than desire.

'Probably first year?' He guesses. I'm amazed. _First_ year?! Really?! I'm far better than I think I am. 'I think I'd been day dreaming and to get my attention you grabbed my leg. All I remember was making a speedy exit.'

He doesn't sound as shy as he looks but I doubt this has much to do with me or even the subject matter but rather the area we're feeling comfortable enough to voice such things. My eyes briefly scan the café window but so far we're the only customers. I pull my attention back to the model in front.

'I touched your leg? But I do that all the time?'

He grins. 'I know. But especially that day. I guess it was the most intimate place that I'd been… well yeah'

'You're so sweet.' And he really is, it's making me want to snog him again.

'Moving day was horrendous…'

'Moving day?' I ask.

'Mm hmm. You were wearing a button up shirt and shorts. It was really hot outside… and you insisted on putting up the highest shelves.'

'No way?!' I hiss. 'I was so pissed off at you! I thought you were leaving me to do all the decorating jobs.'

He laughs comfortably, taking another sip of his coffee before pushing it aside to face me, blue eyes drowning me in the desperation to wrench him closer and finish the task in mind. But doing so now would be even more inappropriate than last night.

'I couldn't stand to be around you for longer than ten minutes. You were driving me insane. You were so _assertive_ , too.' He's clearly pleased, guessing by his tone but all I remember is being so mad for the abandonment, I genuinely thought I was going to drive a nail through his skull.

'I had every right to be. I was convinced you were being an ass!'

He laughs, holding me closer with just his warm fingertips along my mine. 'I was itching to go to work just for some head space and I come home to find you on the highest ladder clenching a hammer between your thighs. I nearly killed over.'

'Cullen, you pervert.' I tease, lovingly.

'I think I prayed for a solid two hours. It was a disaster…'

'I didn't realise I had such an effect on you.' I say, unable to hide my pride.

'Not until two weeks ago, no. Thanks to your drunken escapades.' Again, he's being absolutely serious, the mint and pine of his cologne wafting gently under my nose and pulling me to him.

'Did you ever…?'

He frowns. I sigh.

'Did you ever…use such inspirations…?' I ask carefully, nervous for no real reason.

'Are you being crude?' He guesses with a smirk. I nod, hiding behind my fringe. 'You're asking if I've ever…' and he interrupts himself to glance around him. Luckily, it's just us within earshot of each other. We're perfectly alone. '…over you?'

'I guess I kinda tried yesterday?' I say, smiling. He grins, laughing softly as he shakes his head.

'Never intentionally... But there have been a few occasions when it's been… necessary for the sake of ease…'

'Meaning?' I whisper encouragingly.

'Meaning that I don't want to work with the public while obsessing over the female anatomy. It's been easier to 'switch-off' as I've gotten older.'

'Like two weeks ago?' I offer. He nods his head.

'I was terrified. I was convinced I wouldn't be able to detach myself but it was surprisingly easy. Work mode is work mode, I guess. To be honest, can't really remember it.'

'You can't?' I ask, swallowing the cake down quickly. He shakes his head to correct himself, his blonde locks shifting.

'I can, of course I can. I just mean not in so much detail. It's very dissociative.'

'Oh.'

'I haven't offended you have I?'

'No.' I answer quietly. 'No, it's honourable, really. '

'But?' He questions.

'I don't know, I guess it was a bit of a turn-on thinking you'd been desiring me…'

'But I do desire you.' He corrects and I'm relieved he acted so quickly to respond. There'd barely been a pause between us. 'I had to be appropriate. The only reason I helped was professionally. I knew you'd be fine but I couldn't stand you being in pain, knowing I could fix it. So I had to ' _section_ ' myself.' It's a deliberate joke and to prove it, he smirks.

'That makes sense.' I reply sombrely but this only furthers his amusement.

'You've got such a kink for forbidden desires!' He murmurs, laughing.

'I do not!' I argue but he only has to raise an eyebrow for me to concede. 'Okay maybe slightly, but I didn't exactly get to complete last night's?'

'I guess not…' He replies softly, his hand massaging warmth into my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

'So if you'd grown acquainted to the act of jerking off since I've known you, but not while in Italy- where on earth did you pick it up?' Again, no pun intended. But I'm desperate to know.

'You're so curious.' He commends leaning over to kiss my hairline. 'I was seventeen.'

'Go on?' I plead, gripping onto him. He snickers.

'I'd been in Chicago under a year and for my birthday, I was gifted Mr Masen's old 1980 Mercedes.' He pauses to watch me take a sip of the coffee. 'I've got a bit of a love affair for those cars.' He confesses.

'I might just get jealous.' I warn him but he smirks wider and continues.

'The choice was to either do it up or sell it to put it towards a car of my choice. I naturally chose the first option though it worked out more expensive and we considered it a project. They both helped. Mr Masen and-' he directs his nod backwards as if to insinuate Alice's home. 'Edward. They did what I instructed and nothing more so it really helped to get a grasp on the basics of my own vehicle.' He pauses again. 'I'm not boring you am I?'

'Of course not.' It's pathetic, I could be enraptured by him reading me instructions for the toaster. His voice is so soothing and soft, barely above a murmur yet perfectly clear.

'So I was stuck on one particular piece, worked on it for months and couldn't fix it until eventually I asked for a mechanic's help. He dropped off several magazines selling the part I needed and thanks to advertising... I was hot and bothered before I could stop myself.'

I'm assuming he's referring to a scantly dressed model and not, as is suggested, an actual piece of machinery.

'So you just went for it?' I ask but he understands my meaning and grins.

'I couldn't stop thinking about it, even though I'd hurriedly thrown the media aside. It was while showering that I couldn't quite control myself...'

I'm grinning, slowing swallowing down the bitter coffee in hopes it'll prevent him from asking. It only half does.

'How about you?'

'Are you really asking me that?' I tease, leaning towards him again. He doesn't understand so raises an eyebrow to highlight his typical confusion.

'Urm?'

'You haven't even noticed the time, have you?'

Thankfully, I've been keeping an eye on it since we sat down and though I hate myself for mentioning it, I really don't want him to be late because of me. He shakes his head slowly, closing an eye, his fringe threatening to slip.

'Am I late?'

'You will be if we don't make a move.'

He checks his watch and makes a face but I simply laugh and tuck in my chair. He bins his breakfast though he's hardly touched it and completely fails to notice me wrap the second half of my muffin into his backpack. He's grabbing his coffee, walking slowly with me towards the hospital though it's only down the end of the street.

'Does that mean you're not going to tell me?' He murmurs softly and I grin once again before tucking my hair out of my view.

'Mysteries are sexy?'

'You're sexy.' And despite the compliment, it comes out in half a grumble as if he's cursing the very nature of such things. I think he spots my grin because he dramatically rolls his eyes before capturing my swinging hand and interlocking it with his. 'And beautiful…'

'Stop.' I whine, feeling my cheeks already starting to brighten.

'And funny?' He adds, trying to catch my grin. 'And smart, mischievous, playful, daring…'

I gently lean into his side, enough to pause him momentarily. 'Stop.' I insist, only laughing because he's making me laugh.

'And Sweet.' He finished and because he's so unbelievably adorable I let myself be flattered by that one. 'Look at that- eight in the morning and I've managed to double my efforts.'

'You have work.'

He smiles, a little wider, when we near the front entrance of the hospital. He's hesitating slightly but he knows he has to get going.

'Esme?'

'We can't keep having this every time you have work. Go, Carlisle. I'll see you tonight.' I say, finding a good excuse to push lightly on the buttons of his shirt.

His slight smile evolves into a grin. He looks around behind him at the few patients passing before turning back to me, holding me full on with those wickedly beautiful eyes, his lips a pale smirk as he tilts my chin up so that the fringe slips back. He inhales reluctantly before reaching a hand at my back and leaning into me. He pulls me against him, his head bent with his sweet lips on mine and despite the inappropriateness and the many other factors which to stop him, he leans into me, grasping my skin under his, the sweet coffee stinging at my tongue as he alerts every nerve in my mouth to attention. He parts his mouth, taking me in and lining my lip and tongue confidently before stepping back far too quickly and grinning.

'I'll see you later?'

I nod, breathless before casting an alarmed look around us. I don't know if anyone saw him, I don't know if anyone cares but it still makes me feel a little self-conscious with my heart hammering away this unsteadily.

He grins again, his hand slipping from my back as he steps away, tilting his gaze in a soft sort of goodbye.


	39. Reasons why viruses are vile

_**Okay, I'm going to be honest with you all and start by saying this week has been really tough and I doubted I was going to get a chapter up at all. To add to this, I'm running behind with my writing schedule but I'm hoping I can get my ass in gear so to speak.**_

 _ **This chapters a little more gentle :) I hope you all enjoy!**_

* * *

It's a horrible longing. It always is whenever I'm left alone but it's the only thing I can possibly think about. My feet continue to pace along the carpet, waiting impatiently for my time to be up, for me to have to ignore the thoughts, waiting for me to stop thinking so selfishly and forcing myself to be that bigger character.

Sex is all I want. It's all I could think to want and not just because of the self-gratification but because of the joint companionship. I want sex from him. I want to be so imbedded with him that I can completely forget the world.

Putting that into actual words is a different matter.

We need grounding. We need a simple uninterrupted night together. A whole: this is who I am, what I want and this is how it's going to work. I can only answer one: I want sex. But I want it to be unfiltered by the kinks and the desires of trouble. I want it to be as delicate as he is. I want the caressing and the kisses and the trust and honesty and faith- I want sex but I want it to be loving.

My eyes clock the unmade bed, slipping past to ignore the broken window to the bedside table, the slightly open drawer. The slightly _open_ drawer. My steps are silent against the carpet, without sound as they cross to the wooden table despite the house being empty.

Without knowing why, I open the drawer. The same black book is closed beneath a few of the DVDs that he managed to put back without my notice. It's the book I look at. I finger the ink splats from the first few pages, feel the indentations of his cursive, slip my touch down the spine and flick through the paper. Those beautiful diagrams are much the same. But my hand flicks immediately passed them, coming to the midpoint, desperate for newer images- and there's nothing. The last thing he'd written was the same old _'circular movements'_.

The words are pointless. The diagrams useless. I begin at the start critiquing his research and flicking past the ink. The inspiration isn't the same and staring at the writing, I struggle to know what I aimed to gain. Was I just looking for aesthetic porn?

I close the book carefully, returning it to its original place without comment. I rock on my heels, thinking hard for a moment about what I want, what he sees, how he draws, what he hides- and how much I _need_ it.

* * *

Mrs Walderman is exhausted when I turn up at her doorstep at noon and even though I warn her that Johnathan isn't looking right, she exhaustively urges me to call later and rushes out to her car. Thus leaving me on the door step with a confused eleven year old and a miserable one and a half year old.

The moment she places her son into my arms I know something isn't right.

He's paler than normal apart from his cheeks which are rosy. He's tired and drooling on my shoulder but can't and won't settle down to sleep. He's warm despite the air conditioner being on for a while, grumpy as can be expected and won't eat or drink anything. I've got him on some of the medicine from the cupboard, as recommended, but he's still far quieter than I would like.

Serena does her best. She's sweet and helpful, jumping around my feet with her recommendations of what she wants to do and not acting up when I suggest a film day. I try everything to try and help her little brother. I try encouraging him to play with toys, put on his favourite films, keep him cool but nothing helps and he ends up snoozing away most of the day on my lap, refusing to eat.

Serena is sat at a space in-between my legs, eyes on the television, motor mouth moving about her friends at school as I brush through her hair. Her school ball is on Wednesday and as the days go by, she's getting more and more excited by it.

But as much as I try to share my attention, I can't help but fret over the youngster. He's whingy and where he would usually be jumping around in my lap, or his sister's, showing us his toys, his focus is on the television. Not as if he's paying attention, but as if he's staring right through it.

'I told Mom that all the popular girls will be getting a limo but she doesn't believe me!'

'Oh, Sweet,' I murmur, braiding the front layers of her hair. 'It is just a party? There'll be plenty of others.'

'But I'm going to look really poor!'

An uncomfortable shudder runs through my shoulders. I had to doubt she had much understanding on the definition of poor if she was classing herself under it but still, it was my job to listen.

'Limousines are really expensive?' I try to tell her but she's on a bit of a kid-rant before I can stop her.

'I told her I'm a grown woman now! It won't be long till I'm wearing a bra!'

I'm struggling to see the correlation between grown woman and limousine so I just nod a little, still watching her little brother. He's fiddling about with his bottle of water but rather than drink it, keeps threatening to pour it on the floor. Even when I encourage him to drink a bit, he whinges. Or at his worst, throws it across the room.

'She just never listens to me!'

'Serena, she loves you.' I remind her, tying off the end of her hair and combing it to the side. She turns at this comment, big brown eyes wide into mine.

'If that's true why is she never home?'

'Hon, she works to provide this for you. To make sure you get your holidays to Spain and wherever else.'

'But I don't want the holidays!' She fights, stubbornly. 'I just want a _limo_!'

'Is this why you're mad at her? Because of a car?'

She avoids answering though eventually nods. I scrub at my forehead with a knuckle.

'All my other friends-'

'Don't know how lucky they are.' I insist, squeezing her shoulder. 'It's a disco, you're meant to be far more excited about the party than the vehicle. You'll be too busy dancing about to be worrying about a silly car.'

She lowers her head, nodding but even from here I can see she's stuck on something.

'Will you show me?'

'Will I show you what, Sweet?' I ask, curious.

'How to dance?'

Not that I want it to but I feel my eyes widen in horror, my stomach dropping into next week and my native language evaporate on my tongue.

'Please, Esme.'

'Err.'

'Please!' She begs, clasping her hands together and throwing herself at me. ' _Please_?!'

'It's not really- err. You don't need me to teach you?' I try to say but she looks like she's seconds from a big girl tantrum which in this case just means bursting into tears before running off. I swallow the lump in my throat, turning awkwardly to look at the kid and something stops my thinking.

'Please?!'

'Hold on a minute.' I say seriously, finger to my lips.

'Please!'

'I will.' I say quickly, trying not to dismiss her but the youngest is curled up tightly, ghostly pale and sweating buckets. 'If we have time, I'll show you later, I promise. For now, can you pass me the phone?'

I put a hand to the kids forehead, even though I know it's not a trustworthy way of taking the temperature and try to pull him from laying down to sitting up. He's extremely weak and though he whines, his reactions are slow and he's floppy in my arms.

I call Mrs Walderman's office four times. I call Mr Walderman's office three times and I even try to get hold of the kid's grandmother but there's no reply. I try Sarah again, both mobile and office and on the sixth try, I finally get an answer. I tell her I'm worried and she reminds me there's Calpol in the cupboard.

'But I think he's worse than yesterday? He can't even sit up.' He's resting on my hip now, head tilted on my shoulder as I try to encourage him to drink something again but he just groggily refuses.

'If not his teeth, it's probably hay fever.' She dismisses quickly and in the background I can hear a number of people calling her attention.

'But it doesn't feel like hay fever?' For hay fever, you usually have the energy to cough or cry or both, he doesn't seem to want to do either of that. 'Do you think I should get him looked at?'

'It's probably just something he's picked up at nursery, Esme. Please don't fret.'

'I know.' I deliberately shift the phone to the opposite ear in the hopes she'll be able to hear him call for her. If she is hearing it, she's doing her best to ignore it. 'He really doesn't seem well?'

'Well Mark'll be home at six. If you're really worried give him something a little stronger and try to get him to sleep it off.'

'I'm sorry to worry you, I know you're busy. I've just never seen him so…aloof?'

'It's fine, Honey. Think nothing of-'

'If he doesn't feel better in the next hour or two…?' I pose, quickly interrupting her further reassurances because I don't believe them.

'It'll probably be gone by then.' She replies and I'm fighting the urge to mention that he wasn't exactly in character yesterday either.

'Do I phone someone? The doctors? Hospital? Carlisle?'

'If you really don't think you're coping?' She murmurs, not unkindly but the words have crawled under my skin. I get it's inconvenient for her children to be ill, I don't get how she's not even slightly bothered by it.

'It's not that.' I say thickly, clenching my teeth together. I'm coping _fine_ , I'm just worried.

'Seriously, Hun. Don't panic, he'll be fine.' And muttering a few closing statements she encourages me to phone later if there's a change in him.

I look blankly to Serena who, despite her age, is giving me an _'I told you so'_ look. Part of me is wishing I hadn't braided her hair because now she's got it pulled to the side as she taps her leg, looking like some snotty know-it-all.

'Why don't you go choose another film?' I suggest, passing her brother to her and pointing to the sofa.

She does as she did earlier, trying to get him to show a bit of interest but he just curls away from the television, a toy squeezed in his hand as I watch from the kitchen. Without hesitation, I dial again.

' _All okay_?' he answers quickly, unable to barely get out a 'hello' when he realises it's me who's calling.

'I'm really sorry. Are you busy?' I ask, wedging myself between the baby gates, while keeping an eye on the living room.

It's the second film this evening, a cartoon one that Serena both chose and is ignoring. She's fiddling with the braid in her hair, listening out for my conversation even though she knows what I'm going to say.

' _Not if you need me_?' he promises and it just reinforces how reliable he really is. Even at work.

'It's just that I'm a little worried about Johnathan?' I comb away my fringe, forcing it out of my way as I listen to his suggestions.

' _Is everything okay_?'

'Well I've phoned Mrs Walderman and she's insisting he'll be fine and I know she's right but- I just don't know. Mr Walderman is meant to be home at six but he's not replying.'

Its past five now and yet I've already spent half the time pacing about. I know Sarah is right but I also know she's stressed and probably doesn't have time for her kids to be ill. Which is exactly what her youngest is.

' _What seems to be the matter_?'

'He's got a bit of a temperature which isn't cooling down, he won't eat or drink anything and he's really pale.'

' _Is he drooling_?' He asks and for just a moment I can imagine him with a pen and paper: writing things down to get his thoughts in check.

'I don't think its teething though because I've seen him when he's in pain and this isn't it. He's too quiet.'

' _What about his stools_?'

'Astronomical. I swear to God, I'm not cut out to deal with half of them.' I say, listening to his amused hum. 'But in all seriousness, diarrhoea galore.'

I'm briefly grateful that it is Carlisle on the phone and not some immature dumbass who would freak all because I'm talking about faeces.

' _Have you given him anything?_ '

'He had paracetamol at half two but he can't have another dose for at least another two hours.'

' _And you phoned Sarah?_ '

'She says Mark'll be home soon and he'll be able to sort it out.'

' _Did you tell her you were worried_?'

'Three times, she keeps sayings its normal- I've just got this feeling?' I exhale thoroughly, leaning against the refrigerator and resting my head on it exhaustively.

' _Poor lad. Well don't panic, okay_?'

'I know.' I sigh, apologetic.

' _Make sure he's cool, try and get him to drink something and keep an eye on him. Encourage sleep if you can? I'd give him half a dose of ibuprofen if you're concerned but try hold off from using it unless necessary. If you're really worried, you can always bring him in._ '

It doesn't matter he's saying the exact same thing that Sarah said, because he's a lot more gentle about it. He's soft, he's helpful and he's easing my concerns without patronising my ass.

'Okay. Do I just stick to water or do I try dairy products. He might try some yoghurt?'

' _For now just stick to water, don't make him eat if he doesn't want to. I'll swing by after work and see if he's okay if you'd like?_ '

'Thank you, Carlisle. I really appreciate it.'

' _Don't mention it. What about Serena? Is she okay_?' Once more I'm grateful or his thoughtfulness.

'Yeah, absolutely fine. She's been wonderful actually.'

' _And you_?'

'I'm okay,' I say softly.

' _Not feeling ill or anything_?'

'Not at all.' I shake my head, momentarily forgetting that he's not in the room.

' _Okay. Well I'll give you a call when I'm on my way- do you need me to pick up anything_?'

'Dinner would be great actually?'

' _Of course_.'

'I really am grateful, Carlisle.'

' _I know, hon_.' He promises soothingly and it almost feels like he's home again. ' _I've got to go but I'll see you soon?_ '

'Okay.'

' _Okay_.' He agrees. ' _Keep me updated_.'

'I will do.'

What is planned and what actually happens are two different things. Johnathan is tired but he's drinking now and so after half an hour of making sure he has had as many fluids as I know he's going to willingly drink, I settle him upstairs and let him sleep for a while. But Mr Walderman phones, apologising for missing my call and apologising again for the fact he's going to be late home.

'You don't mind staying an extra hour, do you? I'll be home before Sarah.' He says, politely and I have to stop from rolling my eyes. Too bloody right he'll be home before his wife, she doesn't finish till ten!

'That's fine, Sir.'

'Thanks, Esme. You're a star.' I feel like it's obligatory to remind him too that I'm worried about his youngest but he does the same as his wife and shrugs me off which only irritates me further.

All the while Johnathan is sleeping, Serena and I cope well and because she has a lot of homework to do, I sit down at the table to try and help her with it while finishing my own reading for lectures tomorrow.

We get about an hour of peace. An hour of parents being right, an hour of the poor kid resting before he loses his shit. He screams himself awake, making the two of us leap out of our skin and even when I've pulled him in for a cuddle, he continues to belt out his lungs, tearless and stressed as he cries. He's still warm and after half an hour of trying to settle him upstairs, I give in and try to settle him downstairs.

He's worse this time. I offer him a cold drink and he throws it so viciously that nearly hits Serena whose staring at me with her hands over her ears. I keep trying, swaying a little with him on my hip but it's not helping and even when he's settled from screaming, he's still whinging.

'Your phone's ringing.' Serena says, tugging on my shirt. I've been making the same soothing sounds for a while now, kept going, half bouncing though it's making my legs ache and at this, I nod.

'Should I answer it?'

I nod, still gently shhing him though it's not really helping.

'It's Carlisle.' She mouths fairly obviously. I roll my eyes and continue to try and calm him. Johnathan is still warm on my shoulder, still bothered, far not pleased.

'He said he's on his way. Is there anything in particular you want from the shops?'

I shrug awkwardly, still repeating those same sound because it's the only thing that's keeping him from screaming but it's making my head want to burst.

'Esme's waving her hand at me.' She says into the receiver, smartly and I have to turn from her to allow me the right to glare.

'Okay.' She hangs up the phone and hands it to me but I've just managed to crack a slight smile from her brother and at that achievement, I try my best to resource his amusement.

'He said to stop stressing.' She tells me, grinning at my side.

'Did he now?' Typical Doctor Cullen, everybody.

Though I'm lucky enough that in conjunction of a sway and a bounce, I've settled Johnathan to not quite a sleep but a gentle doze to the point I can feel his drool slipping down my back. This only lasts until Carlisle knocks on the door, of course. Then we're all for screaming again.

Serena is jumping about the place, weirdly excited though I'm not sure why. She makes conversation, eager to tell him about our rubbish day and from the corner of my eye I see him hold out two closed fists towards her. She hesitates, leaning on her hip as he shakes both hands. She picks his right hand and he opens it to show its empty then he opens his left hand and proves that's empty, too before pulling out a coin from 'behind her ear' and gifting it to her.

Of course. _Of course_ he knew fucking magic tricks. Only natural, right? Jesus, my heart. But he spots me watching, sighs sympathetically and steps over the baby gate towards me.

'How are you doing?'

I don't think he had much time to change considering he's still wearing his suit but his tie is loose and his perfect hair has been pushed out the way. His cologne is still as strong as ever but right now that's the only blessing I have left because it means I don't have to suffer the smell that someone's explosives have traumatised me with.

I'm still swaying as he comes towards me but my body is so tired that when he affectionately puts his lips to the top of my cheek, I don't remember to flinch. I just lean closer to him.

'I'm okay…'

'Sure?' He asks, tilting his nod towards the child in question. I have to keep reminding myself to be grateful for the crying and not the screaming but it's somewhat embarrassing having someone like Carlisle waltz in here while I upset the youngest.

'I don't know what I'm doing wrong? He was fine for a while, slept a bit but he's been crying now for an hour.'

'Have you tried putting him down?' He asks and he does better than the parents did at making a condescending sentence sound gentle.

I nod. 'He screamed every time I tried and asked to be held again.'

He nods, silent as he thinks, watching over him for just a moment before stepping from my shoulder.

'Have you taken his temperature?'

'Not since an hour ago. You can do so if you like?'

Serena is suddenly fascinated in the exchange and while we're fussing about the youngest, she makes every effort to distract Carlisle and ramble in his ear about her party. That doesn't shock me, what shocks me is that he somehow manages to hold up the conversation while washing his hands in the kitchen sink.

'It sounds like a lot of fun!' He commends excitedly, asking her where the first aid kit is. She throws herself into helping him out. So much so that he affectionately starts to refer to her as his 'little nurse' and it physically pains me because it's gorgeously cute.

'Are you okay holding him?' He asks me, coming closer with an ear thermometer in his hand. I nod tiredly, leaning out my hip to help push him up. I should really start expecting the unexpected because he turns to the eleven year old and raises his eyebrow.

'It's the nurses job to help settle the patient so while I take his temperature, I need you to try and distract him.'

She nods enthusiastically, picking up one of the kids toys and, amazingly, succeeding in capturing his attention while Doctor Cullen fusses about with the thermometer. My jaw wants to fall open. The sweetness how this whole interaction and how bitterly it's destroyed by his fate. There could be no better father figure.

'It's okay, a mild fever but nothing too bad. Is he complaining of a stomach ache?'

I shrug before shaking my head. 'He's barely had the energy to do anything until about an hour ago. He's just wants his Mother.'

The kid's face is still red and though he's not full on crying anymore, he is still grizzling, his own hair coming up in shock where he's gripped onto it. From my shoulder, Carlisle's reading the ingredients on the paracetamol bottle but on my nod, empties a dose into one of the measured syringes and puts it to the kid's mouth. To my surprise, he doesn't fight it, he swallows it down, dribbling a bit which I wipe away while Carlisle ruffles his hair.

'What do you think?' I ask, softly, desperate to just lean into him for a support because he's far more comforting than the wall and I'm exhausted. 'Do I try a little bit of dinner?'

'Try it.' He agrees nodding. 'You might not get far but try then maybe get him ready for bed.'

I nod, patiently, still swaying a little but stroking the kid's cheek affectionately. He drops his head to my shoulder, staring at the silly faces Carlisle keeps making. Serena is still stood behind me, rubbing the kid's back like a 'real nurse' but because it seems to be helping, I don't say much.

'You know what's next?' He asks her, smiling when she fails to come up with an answer. His wiggles his fingers and points towards the sink. 'We wash our hands again.'

'Again?' She complains, frowning. He nods, running the tap and pouring the soap into her hands as he shows her the 'correct' way, in-between the knuckles, around the thumb and perhaps if I wasn't so tired, I would be falling even further down a spiral of insanity. The kids are a great clitoris prohibitus. Now I feel sick.

'Next?' She asks, showing her clean hands. He looks towards me.

'We ask the fellow nurse if she needs help.'

'Fellow nurse?' I quote, my eyebrows coming up. He grins, perfect teeth on perfect display as more drool soaks through my T-shirt. I'm not sure this time if it's the baby's or mine.

'What can I do?!' Serena asks, jumping at my feet again and because it's easier for them to play I lower my shoulder and carefully help her brother to the floor. He's just about to start crying again, he's literally at my feet, breathing heavily because he doesn't like the fact he's now been left to stand on his feet.

'Distract him?' I suggest, smiling in gratitude as she takes the task at hand. I can feel Carlisle watching me as I rifle through the cupboards. It's not a horrible stare but it is a thoughtful one and I don't think I'm going to like what's on his mind. 'Thanks for your help. You can go if you like, you don't have to stay.'

'Would you _like_ me to stay?' He asks hopefully and I deliberately don't answer immediately because I want to be selfish.

'You should be studying, Carlisle. What with all your exams-'

'Okay.' He interrupts nodding.

I take it back. I want to say that because my back hurts a little, I need him to stay exactly where he is and not go anywhere. Especially when it means Serena stays distracted for just a moment, too. He climbs over the baby rail in the kitchen, not even offering a goodbye as he walks to the end of the living room- and stops at the table before sitting down in my seat and pulling his laptop from his bag.

'What are you doing?' I question, my hand coming to rest on my hip as I watch him from the other side of the room. He grins, folding my book away, briefly watching the kids play in the corner before pointing to his computer.

'Me? I'm studying.'

My heart swells again.

There's not much in the cupboard and by not much I mean there's literally just soup but I'm hoping that because it's more liquid based, Johnathan might give it a go. Being the sweetheart he is, Carlisle hasn't just brought some cheap ready meal, he's brought the ingredients for bolognaise and not the cheap stuff either. For now I gently heat up the soup, wait for it to be a good temperature and set up the high chair.

I'm really not flavour of the month today and after crying because I put him down for just a moment, Johnathan cries again when I pick him up. He doesn't want to settle into the highchair, even when I face him towards the television.

'All okay?' Carlisle calls and I know he's still focusing on his work as he directs his thoughts towards me.

I smile towards the kid, blowing on a spoonful and offering it towards him. He's reluctant at first, glaring at me though his face soon softens and tiredly he gives in and tries a spoonful.

'There's a clever, man!' I cheer, grinning excitedly in encouragement as he takes down another spoonful and then another- and then stops. My exhale is thick, my eyes sore and my patience running low as I start pleading with the poor kid but he's shaking his head, pushing away the spoon and half tipping the bowl on him before I grab it.

'Another spoonful?' I try but he's adamant.

'One more and I'll give you a bit of ice cream?'

'Can I have ice cream?!' Serena cheers, running to the alcove of the door towards me.

'After dinner.' I reply automatically but her brother is stubborn and keeps his mouth tightly closed until losing it and smacking both bowl and spoon out of my hand.

'You so did not do that!' I laugh disbelievingly, red soup stains splattered not just across my chest but in my lap, down my jeans and even worse, on the floor.

'Are you-oh?' Carlisle coughs to hide his laugh as he and the eleven year old make some hilarious joke behind my head. Johnathan is suddenly interested in the television again. 'Do you need some help?'

'Can I try him on yoghurt?' I beg, tiredly. 'We've got a chance with that.'

'Are you sure?' He asks, gently and suddenly Serena is passing me a towel as she wipes the floor. 'Thanks, Sweet.'

'Just being a good nurse, hey, Carlisle?'

'The best.' Cullen commends and I turn just in time to catch his famous smile but his famous smile kicks up several notches as his grin breaks into laughter at my expense.

'Hilarious- I'm sure!' I mock, gesturing down my outfit and wiping off my chest too. A smile has suddenly appeared on the kid's face. One that I bet is only being enforced because half the room is already laughing and before long, I have to join in or I'm going to be left out.

Serena hands me a small pot of strawberry yoghurt and stands away as I try to feed the kid that. He doesn't even bother trying. My grip is clearly not tight enough and as he smacks and kicks me away, he also manages to throw more dinner at me until I'm still.

He's not laughing this time. He's whining. Even when he finishes his drink, he whinges then that turns to crying and a tantrum is being thrown before I have a chance to wipe myself off.

'I guess you were right.' I mutter irritably but I'm grateful my failures aren't being rammed down my throat.

'Tell me what I can do to help?'

'Nothing.' I insist, trying to rub my headache away as I hoist him on my hip again and try to soothe him. He's squirming and crying for his mom and at this moment, though I'm mad, I don't blame Sarah refusing to come home.

I don't mean that.

'Sure?'

I nod, rubbing Johnathan's back as he continues to drool down my shoulder but he's stiffened and I'm not sure why.

'Es, I think-'

Before Carlisle even has a chance to warn me, drool soaking into my skin in a way that's making me desperate for a shower, the kid burps. Or at least I think he burps, until I feel the flow of thick fluid coat my back and shoulder.

Then the smell hits me.

My eyes close and I make an effort to breathe through my mouth and not my nose because if I breathe through my nose, we're all in danger.

'Please tell me that didn't just happen?' I whisper, focusing on the blue in Carlisle's gaze rather than his sympathetic expression. It's the eleven year old who confirms my horrors as she leaps back, squealing.

The crying has stopped, as has the liquid along my shoulder and I rub his back to ensure he's alright. He coughs a bit, lifting his hands to rub his eyes.

'Better?' I ask, rubbing his back and I'm surprised by his dull nod.

'He looks tired, Es.'

I momentarily put him back in his highchair and turn on the spot to see where the vomit has gone. Great, fantastic. It's all still on my back. Warm and gross and smelling vile.

'Can you do me a favour?' I ask, eyebrows furrowed. He's already guessed what I'm going to say and is unbuttoning his shirt. I guess this would be a lot sexier if it was the only shirt he wore to work. And I didn't have vomit on my back. And there weren't any children under my responsibility. I'm very grateful for his thoughtfulness as he strips down to his everyday T-shirt and lays his buttoned one on the gate by the kitchen. He's got his hand out to Serena, encouraging her from the kitchen.

'Any homework that needs doing?'

'Only French.' She complains. 'But it's really difficult and I don't understand it.'

'I'll help you.' He promises.

While free, apart from the baby of course, I strip off my soiled shirt, ensuring that my skin hasn't been scorched by the projectile and button on Carlisle's shirt. It's almost weird to be in his clothes when I'm wearing a bra and not deliberately flirting. Though it's still comforting. Johnathan is snivelling at me, heavy-lidded and looking groggy and even though I try and soothe him, it's obvious that Carlisle's right.

'I think I'm going to bath him and put him to bed…' I call, fixing a drink in a clean bottle as I carry him about.

'Do you need me to do anything?'

I shake my head, grabbing a bear off the living room floor as we walk through it and nodding to Serena.

'Are you okay down here with Carlisle?'

She's sat up at the table facing the window with her school book open In front of her. Carlisle's pushed his laptop to the side to read her writing from upside down and although he offers me a gentle smile, it's almost like he's focused in holding the girls attention. She nods absently without really listening, pen balanced on a particular sentence she's struggling to translate.

'Look for the verbs.' He reminds her softly and she circles a few of them and repeats them back to him.

I gently touch his shoulder in a 'thank-you' as I pass him and carry the sleepy infant upstairs but everything about his manner reinforces how sleepy Johnathan is. He can't even enjoy the toys in the bath no matter how much I encourage splashing and soon enough, we collectively agree that putting him into the cot is a good idea.

He stands about for a moment, sits with his pyjama legs in a 'v' towards me and slowly lets himself lie down without much complaint. The complaint comes when he looks like he's asleep and I go to leave the room. From there; screams.

It makes me jump. The shrill sound of his cry in such a warm and silent room. He struggles to calm, angry tears flowing down his cheeks as he suddenly reaches his little hands out towards me desperate for me to stay. It pulls at my heartstrings so I brush back his hair but stay standing. He's still crying. So I eventually give in and pull him for a cuddle. He's better when he's hugging someone. He buries his face in the shirt, calming down and listening at my heart while I rock him back to sleep

'Es?' Carlisle calls from below the stairs.

'Mmm?' I reply, leaning past the doorway to watch his reply.

'Souhaitez-vous que je commence à dîner?'

What?

' _What_?' I repeat, my jaw dropping.

French?! French, too? Is it all languages now? He actually just spoke French at me?! His blush reveals his embarrassment, his smile crumbling beneath my gaze of shock. He's trying to correct himself, falling over the sounds in confusion and looking, for a solid three minutes, like he has no clue what language to speak.

'Did you just French at me?' I demand, shaking my head.

'Urm?'

'You just _Frenched_ me?'

'I don't think-'

'French? _French_ as well? Jesus, Carlisle, give up the day job and become a tour guide for the love of God.'

He's looking shyly at me, his cheeks lightly dusted pink. He's tempted to climb the stairs but refusing for the sake of dignity. It's as I'm turning back into the kid's room that I tell him to come up and though he's reluctant, I soon hear the soft sound of his footsteps on the stairs. The kid is quiet enough that I take the risk to put him back in the cot and weirdly enough he doesn't flinch but he does stay awake, eyes on me. Carlisle hesitates at the door, waiting for me to permit him to enter with his hands clasped behind his back.

'Are you okay?' He murmurs and I let my chin nod as I smooth the fallen strands of the kid's hair. 'Sure?' He adds in a whisper.

I look over at him, smile and beckon him in. He's quiet, standing behind me, offering support without the words. The kid's eyes are getting heavier, his cheek leaning into my palm as his strength wavers.

'Would you like for me to start dinner?'

'You're very sweet, Carlisle.'

He grins, settling by my side to watch over my responsibility for tonight. When I look up, he's nodding which confirms my suggestion so I help the little one to lie down and then eventually step away.

Johnathan looks like he's going to cry. After a moment, he stops and let's himself lie down sleepily. He hasn't got the energy to fight anymore let alone feel sorry for himself so once he's down, I let myself sigh.

'I think it's just a bug. Sleep will help.' He says softly in my ear.

'Thank you.'

'What for?' He questions, raising an eyebrow. I turn my face, tilting it upwards so that my eyes are staring into the hidden freckles at his nose.

'For being here. I appreciate how much you're sacrificing.'

He doesn't like this comment as proved by the return of his expression but he settles it with a smile and kisses me fully and (beautifully) on the mouth.

'Carlisle!' I hiss when he's pulled away.

I look over to the cot, my heart beating away and see the sleepy child still staring at the two of us.

'What?' He questions, a mischievous smile biting at his lips. I tilt my head towards the child and frown but I'm being looked at with such delicate eyes, such a charming smile, my favourite cologne shimmering over me. I'm so tired. 'He's just a child, Hon?'

And to prove his confidence he kisses me again. The fault shouldn't lie on him, it should lie on me because even though I can see his face coming towards me, I'm far too weak to pull away. I kiss him back because that's what I want in every aspect of my body. At least I'm frowning though.

'Don't say that!' I complain. He kisses me again. It's not suggestive. He's not making it suggestive but I just want it so much that a tiny little sound leaves my mouth.

'Sorry…' He mutters guiltily.

'Have you not seen _Home Alone_?! Never dismiss the power of a child or we could be walking along a death trap in a year's time and if we do, I blame you completely.'

'I can accept that.'

Johnathan still has his eyes on Carlisle and I. He doesn't look like he wants to make much sound but at the same time, I'm not sure if he really wants to sleep, too. But Carlisle gets the hint and squeezes my arm before taking the steps downstairs.

Hilariously, an over display of affection is what leads to the poor child's second and third rounds of vomiting and exhausted, I spend an extra fifty minutes up here clearing him all up, changing the bedding and settling him to sleep.

It's nearly half six, I haven't heard from Mark since he phoned and even though I've managed to survive a reluctant sleep from the baby, the only thing keeping me awake is the smell of cooking. I've got the monitor in my hands, eyes locked on it in panic as I enter the living room automatically. The sight ahead of me changes that though.

Carlisle's close to the hob, his back turned from me as he continues to make the little girl giggle. The radio is on but it's gentle and their voices are louder.

'Like this?' She asks, worriedly trying to copy what I presume is his actions. He nods encouragingly and points to the back pan, passing her the spoon.

'I was also taught to try the pasta before serving it.'

'Did you _really_ live in Italy?' She asks, amazed as she follows his instructions. Nodding, he passes her a spoon with a bit on and reminds her to blow on it. She does so and then picks it off to try it, suitably impressed.

'We used to walk along the market to buy fresh vegetables and cook them at home.'

He manages to keep up his narrative as he instructs her on what to do which allows me to take the few steps to the hallway door. They still haven't noticed. They're backs are turned as they fuss around, the rich smell of dinner making my stomach growl.

'Our chef used to tell me off for stealing grapes.' He tells her with a grin. I take this opportunity to announce myself.

'Now isn't _that_ a surprise?'

As expected, Cullen jumps up before returning my smile.

'We're just dishing up.' He promises, nodding towards the table, the back of his neck reddening.

'You or Serena?' I tease. A crumbly smile forms on his lips and shrugs shyly because Serena is excited to take the credit for her work and jumps up at me, waving around a spoon at me.

'Carlisle was telling me all about-!'

'Was he now?' I confirm, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to relax.

'Is he okay?' Carlisle asks instead and he puts out a few plates to help her out. I feel my eyes engorge. I'm starving but the look of dinner in conjunction with the heavenly smell of rich, fresh food served by the God of all things amazing while being the sweetest freaking babysitter- oh Jesus.

I nod again, heading towards the two and gratefully grabbing a plate off them with so much appreciation, I could almost ball my eyes out into my food. Dinner reminds me how great everything about life can be and holy shit, can the man cook. The sweetest thing is that he knows how tired I am, he can appreciate it and offers further help.

Serena is a star while this is going on and to make matters worse, her dad isn't just late by an hour or two, he's pushing three and a half hours when I finally call it quits.

While we've been waiting for Mark to get home, the tone, and the sun outside, has settled even further into hiding. Johnathan continues to be sick so many times that I give in and have him settled downstairs because it's easier for him. Serena has put on another film and though I did promise a dance or two, I'm finding it hard to do anything with this blinding headache I've got going on. So she just watches television while Carlisle sits on the sofa with his computer on his lap. My head is melting. The baby is finally asleep, without heaving, as is Serena when finally the door goes.

Out of instinct, I look to Carlisle and together we head towards the door but I regret it freaking instantaneously.

With a hand on the latch, Carlisle wrenches the door open to reveal Mark Walderman late, his suit deranged with a goofy smile on his face and offering the stench of the cheapest whiskey that has ever offended my nose. He barely gets a word out before stumbling into my flatmates arms.

'Carlisle! Good t'see you, buddy! How y'doin?'

His face is hazy as he grips onto Carlisle to support and with less than a groan I turn angrily towards him, the Doctor is question is trying to conceal a laugh. Both of the men are. Though one is completely oblivious.

'You're _joking_?'

'I'm hooome?' Mr Walderman sings and I think he's going to stumble into the living room when he actually walks into the wall.

'Sir?' Carlisle probes, looking at me briefly before pulling his eyes away

'Guess. Guess who got-' He interrupts himself with a hiccup, gripping a hand on Cullen's collar to keep him standing. 'Promotiooon!' He sings.

'Congratulations.' I say stiffly. 'But Johnathan-'

'Perhaps you need a drink?' Carlisle offers, steadying the man by the wall. It's easier for him to be the calm one. By all means, he's tired. But he hasn't been clearing up vomit for the last four hours and even though Serena is trying to help, it's the act of trying to help which stresses me out to the max. To make matters worse, if my head even so much as seems slightly worse, I think I'm going to faint.

It's so freaking cold in this house and I'm sweating buckets.

'Ey! There's a goo'lad! Go on, my son!'

'Speaking of your son-' I try to intervene again.

He ignores me, falls past me and dizzily stomps into the living room, slipping on a toy and falling dramatically to the floor. My flatmate rushes to help him but the sudden crash of drunken man-to-floor causes the baby to wake up and when the baby is awake so is Serena and all at once, my evening has gone to pot.

I have like eight hours of class tomorrow, how am I meant to cope?!

'Dad?' Serena questions, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

'Hey Baby.' He cheers, grinning, eyes heavy and diluted.

She looks to me, mildly concerned but not enough that I know she hasn't seen him in such a state before. It's just freaking typical he chooses this night of all nights to do so.

'Why don't you go to bed, Sweet? It's getting late.'

The look she gives tells me everything I already knew. There's no chance of sleep with this racket.

'But you were going to teach me to dance?'

I sweetly remind her it's late, and though I will dance with her soon, at this moment she should wash her face. The excitement, and noise, makes that act harder. She reluctantly does as asked while Carlisle settles the 'adult' in a chair, my head imploding as I try to calm down the screaming infant- when he's sick not down himself, but because I'm holding him, down me as well.

Mr Walderman watches the scene, thoroughly repulsed, paused in his intangible conversation with Carlisle until he _too_ is sick on the floor. Two portions of vomit and one so much worse than the other.

Though disgruntled, I'm still concerned. Carlisle tries again to offer a glass of water to the adult but he's making things difficult by still trying to be independent in his intoxication. He wanders over to the kitchen sink and douses himself in the water from the cold tap. He's more trouble than both of the kids combined.

Blue eyes look sympathetically up to me.

'You take the bathroom, I've got it covered down here.'

'Are you sure?' I ask, my gratitude leaking out in the form of slumped shoulders. He nods, the charm of a smile of his lip while I take the kid upstairs and do my best to wash the both of us.

Johnathan is tired again and after a cup of water and me washing his face thoroughly, I'm surprised he's ready to settle down to sleep. It's only fair though, his diapers are making my eyes water and I think if I see another body fluid hurtle out of anyone, I'll vomit myself.

I don't know what is worse at this point, my head or my churning stomach but at least my sense of worth builds when I find Carlisle scrubbing at the floor on his knees. Mr Walderman is sat on the couch, trying to keep conversation with my Saint but it's full of only one person talking. Mainly because Carlisle can't get a word in edges ways.

'Need any help?' I offer, tilting my head. A smirk falls on his mouth and though he's tired, too, he's also got a great sense of humour.

'Go babysit?' He begs and it's a good reminder to keep an eye on Mark, and the rest of the living room while he fixes the domestics. Once that's done, with great difficulty do we haul the six-foot man to bed, carrying his limp body and ignoring the comments that falls out of his mouth.

Carlisle drops him as gently as possible on the bed but he keeps pulling himself up, and fisting Cullen's shirt to stop him from wandering far. I don't know whether to be jealous or pleased.

'Sarah's gunna be pissed at me, right?'

'I'm not sure, Sir.' Cullen diffuses carefully, his mouth fighting his refreshing smile.

'Married life, Kid. It's hell.'

Cullen and I both stare at each other for what feels like a long time. His gaze is soft but the concern behind them is not and after a few panicked seconds I realise that this is not a sentence which befits his wishes. He's devastated by the comment as if it's burned every shred of hope he had left.

'Nag, nag, nag, it's so irritating.' He continues to blurt. 'I miss it.'

'Being single?' Cullen asks and I realise his tone is hard. He's not impressed. The look he receives is of similar offence.

'Of course not, lad. I'm talking about marriage. The bills, the endless fucking bills.'

In a matter of milliseconds, the relief that curls through both our stances is rich enough to send him into giggles as I quite literally, wipe the sweat from my forehead.

'You'll understand, one day.' He murmurs, still resisting the urge to lay down completely though Carlisle still urges him. I'm not sure if we're being parental, authorial or medical at our insistences but it matters little when our neighbour refuses to settle down. 'Sarah and I.' He stops himself to laugh. 'Sarah and I have been convinced it'll be you two.'

'It'll be us two?' I question, leaning around Carlisle.

A noise goes behind me. I don't know what, perhaps the sound of fidgeting and I need to see who it is to make sure the kids are okay. Despite not taking a step away from the baby monitor, it's still making me nervous.

'What I mean is-'

'Please Mr Walderman, you're only going to feel worse if you keep getting up. Settle down?' This sounds like his natural speaking voice to me but Mark obeys it without question and touching Carlisle lightly on the arm, I sign that I'm going to check on the kids.

I'm in the hallway upstairs when I realise the sound is the unlocking of the front door. Without hesitation, I stand at the top stop and breathe as luxuriously as I can.

'Hey Hun.' She whispers and from here I can see that she's tired, her arms weighted with paperwork and her hair slipping out of a knot. But I know I look and smell worse so as for the shit day contest, I'm going to go ahead and take the winning prize.

'Is everyone asleep?' She questions and then dropping her smile as her eyes scan the living room. 'Where's Mark?'

I make my way towards her and nod behind but I'm grateful enough that she not only feels my wrath, but will undoubtedly relive it. I don't hear the footsteps behind me but I do feel the soft breaths on my neck and though it keeps making me shiver, I'm utterly grateful it's there.

'All okay?' She asks turning to the man in question.

'I suspect it's just Norovirus but it means the rest of you will probably get it.'

'Oh? Should I be worried?'

I assume that he shakes his head because I see Sarah sigh gently, her shoulders lowering as I offer to take her bag and books for her. They talk briefly for a moment, Carlisle offering the same advice he did for me but _thankfully_ adding:

'The worst is probably over for Johnathan.'

And for that I could lose my shit. Obviously I don't because despite my best efforts to keep them all sane, I feel strangely guilty that the poor soul has suffered this weekend and even though it meant running around and smelling rancid, I'd do anything to make him feel better.

'How about Serena-'

'Serena's been amazing.' He commends and he looks to me to A; confirm him and B; take over.

'She's been so helpful, bless her. Wouldn't leave his side.' And I affectionately elbow Carlisle. 'But speaking of Serena, her party on Wednesday-'

'Oh Lord! I nearly forgot all about that!' Sarah exclaims and hastily she pulls out her diary from her bag to note down the date.

'It's just that- she's rather upset about…transport. She's worried that she'll be judged on what she arrives in.'

'Arrives in?' She retorts, confused. 'We were simply thinking of walking here over, it's not far is it?'

It's a fair suggestion that morally I agree with. Though for some reason, the thought makes me feel even guiltier and I rush out the words before I get chance to stop them.

'Carlisle's car is rather flashy? I was wondering if I might be able to drop her off in that? Boost her confidence a little?'

At first, she looks so stunned that I'm convinced she's offended. I haven't even thought about mentioning it to Carlisle. It's carless of me but I think he knows how much I'll appreciate it. And besides, after last night he kind of owes me.

No he doesn't but if he did, then I know this is one of the ways he would do it. By giving me what I want.

'Oh, Esme.' She murmurs, pouting her lip. 'That is so generous of you. Are you sure about this Carlisle?'

'More than anything.' He promises and it makes my tired shoulders shiver.

'Both of you are so kind. This weekend has just been hell but I'm so grateful for your help.'

As Carlisle grabs our stuff, she pulls me into a tght hug, completely ignorant to the stench of watered stomach acid on one of my favourite shirts as she hugs me dearly.

'Who's luckier than us?' She questions.

* * *

It would seem that person is me. She pays me nearly double than what she usually does and though I try to fight it, she insists for the sake of two soiled shirts. Though that's not the least of it. Once in our familiar living room, the smell of warm vanilla tickling my nose, several more thousand matters of appreciation fumbles over my every being.

Edward has cleaned. The living room is literally sparkling and onto of the piano is a little box with my name on. I attempt to frown at Carlisle but he's already scooting past me to make a hot drink, a hand threading through his hair to make it even sexier than it is normally. I don't even have the energy to want to ravish him. I just want a cuddle.

'What's this?' I ask aloud but I'm not looking at him, I'm looking at the black satin box. It's small in my palm but bulky and it reminds me of when I finally finished paying off my car and Carlisle placed the car keys in a jewellery box.

'I'm not sure? Why don't you open it?'

He's standing opposite me now, taller almost with his eyes on the box in my hand. My gaze hardens, the confusion running through my head but assuming I want time alone, he presses his lips to the top of my head and sighs.

'Let me run you a bath?'

'Oh Carlisle.' It's literally exactly what I need and what I want and the moment he's said it, the more I realise I need it. Hold on. 'Wait- are you saying that because I-?'

'Because it's been a busy day. You must be exhausted.'

'I am.' I confirm. 'A bath would be great.'

Why the fuck am I not blowing him right now?!

My attention falls back to the box and lifting the lid, I hear both of us gasp slightly. Holy shit. The earrings are beautiful. They glitter and shine except one tiny stone hidden in the mass of diamonds.

'They're beautiful.' I say, holding one up to the light. A series of tiny rainbows slip through the glass, raining on my hand in a beautiful array of colour from such a blindingly white piece. They're semi long and dangle slightly with the small coloured stone expected to sit at the space of my ear lobe.

'How remarkable. Emeralds have always been my favourite.' He agrees, a light touch under the diamonds. This surprises me, if anything, I always assumed he would have a thing for sapphires. Personally, I can't think of preferring one stone over the other. But diamonds. They were effortlessly beautiful.

'They are?'

'Mm hmm.' He nods and takes the piece from my hand to hold it against my ear. 'It's going to look great.'

'Why are emeralds your favourite?'

I think he was expecting this question because he doesn't hesitate when answering me. He keeps his gaze on my neck, his lips curved.

'Because they remind me of home.'

'England is very green.' I say though admittedly, this is a bit of a guess. I haven't been, I'm judging from High school geography classes. He smirks. 'And they're the colour of Edward's eyes.'

He nods. 'And Elizabeth's.'

Should I be jealous of this? Probably not but my stomach is feeling really uncomfortable and I can't settle it.

'And-' He stops, waiting for me to look at him before grinning. 'Yours in the light.'

'Only in the light.' I complain.

'I think you underestimate how much you like the light, Esme.'

He has me there.

'Anything to stop them being brown.'

Without warning, the sudden horror of Tuesday makes my stomach lurch again and before I can say anything or turn away, Carlisle is already heading upstairs. Gifts? More gifts. What about if that's it? What about if it's some sort of attempt to remind me I have to go back? What about if this is a step up for the pay rise?!

'Anyway, let me go run you a bath.'

The side of his cheek softens by his smile and he quietly takes the stairs as if it's much later than it is and we have sleeping children in the house. So I take the time to open the note on the piano. The first line settles my fear.

They're from Alice. Her pretty handwriting circles the page and though she doesn't sign it, she does manage to make it explicitly clear who it's from, especially with hr choice of pen colour and looped heart at the end.

 _I'm far better than you think I am. You'll forgive me eventually._

I have no idea what she's on about. Unless she means because the earrings are expensive and I'll be indebted to her indefinitely but I don't think about that right now. Who would want to with three day old food on your body? Yuck.

When I knock on the bathroom door, Carlisle is fiddling with the taps. His t-shirt is still looking pristine despite the cooking that took up most of the day and though he stoops a little, I know he's not ready for bed. I wish I could share the feeling. The bubbles are rising up over the side of the tub and out of panic, I assume, he's thrown every Godforsaken soap into the potion of water. But it smells good and at least he's made the water as hot as I would like.

'I hope its okay?'

My grin is pathetic and because I can't be bothered, I just nod and release the tangles of my hair. He's staring. He can't lie because I know he's rooted to the spot. My wink is a wicked one.

'You're welcome to join me, Carlisle?'

'Huh?'

I point between us. 'A little water play perhaps?' And I thumb the highest button on my shirt without undoing it. He closes his eyes, frowning before shaking his head, blonde locks shifting from the position granted by a hand.

'N-no.' He chuckles at himself and reasserts his calm. 'No thank you, Hon.'

To prove his interest, he makes sure to kiss the top of my cheekbone as he leaves, closing the door behind him and granting me the peace I've been needing all day. My head is killing me but the water is at its best temperature, the heat cleansing my skin as the perfume soaks into it.

To think I nearly thought my boss had- my boss. Jesus Christ. What was I meant to do about that? I couldn't just up and leave. It's not allowed. On the other hand- I couldn't stay. I can't stay. I won't stay. How the fuck am I meant to financially afford leaving? How am I even meant to last another week there?!

It takes for Edward to knock on the door demanding the bathroom for me to realise I've been too long. At least, I feel good. I feel clean. I feel tired. I feel like I don't even have the energy to get out the bathtub. Fuck.

Edward's cursing at me when I open the door but he stops when he takes one look at me which is more than concerning.

'You alright?'

'I'm fine, why?' I reply, confused. He points to his face and makes an expression which on a better day would make me hit him. Tonight, I barely have the energy to grunt at him.

Annoyingly, Carlisle has the same concern on his face when I close the door of his bedroom but I'm hoping that's done on the fact I've walked in here in a towel and not because I'm worth worrying about.

'Are you-'

'I need sleep.' I interrupt him.

He's got his laptop on his knees but places it to the floor to open space on the bed for me. It doesn't even matter that I'm mostly naked, it doesn't matter that he could be having a heart attack boner. I literally just need to cuddle up somewhere warm and bury my head from the light. As I do so, I feel a soft hand tenderly scratch at my wet hair. This man.

'Have you got work tomorrow?'

'No. But I've got a few things to do.' His voice is soft but not sultry like I was expecting after yesterday. Or even this morning. Why the heck am I not throwing myself on him? 'If you can, I would take something before you sleep.'

'Huh?'

'You're looking pale.'

'Oh.' My words are muffled by the pillow.

To be in bed after three days, knowing that I can finally sleep- it's already soothing the pain in my back. I think I must drift off within seconds because one minute there's a hand in my hair as I stay sprawled on the sheets in fabric and next Carlisle is by my side, offering a glass of fizzy water with the soluble tablets. Yuck. My sore eyes don't want to open, my hand doesn't want to grip and gently, Carlisle has to warn me that the towel is slipping.

Neither of us seem to have the energy to laugh. And worse than that, I can't even be bothered to flash him.

I don't know which shirt of his I wear this time. Just a casual soft thing that overhangs and some shorts to match. Perhaps I should be irritated he hasn't found this as sexy as I want him too. Or maybe I should be grateful. Either way, he pulls open the cover on my side and lets me warm myself despite the damp hair turning frizzy. He settles down, turning off the light and lowering the brightness on his laptop until it no longer pains me and when he feels me fidget, he curls an arm around me and strokes my back.

For no reason at all, it's making me feel better. It's lulling the storm of my body and keeping me warm while not letting me over sweat. My left hand goes to his abdomen and I wrench myself towards him to curl further into his cuddle.

'Thank you for today.' I murmur and I'm not even worried I didn't get a chance to suck his dick. The best part being that neither is he.


	40. Reasons why sickness sucks

_**Hi all! I apologise whole heartedly for the last chapter, it's more important than it looked. Thank you for your well wishes, I'm very grateful. Like many of you, I was shocked by the sudden events in Manchester but I am safe and sound far south. My thoughts have been with the victims and alike of the tragedy.**_

 _ **This chapter was a lot more fun to get my hands around and though it's jumpy, as you will see, it's part of the process. Thanks very much for your kind reviews and messages, I hope you love this chapter as much as I did, if not more.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

Undoubtedly, most assuredly, and completely is the fact that I do not feel well. I haven't felt well since six o'clock yesterday but as I lay squirming, sweating one moment and shivering the next I can only be sure of one thing. Sickness sucks.

'Es?'

Unsurprisingly, I try to hide from the gentle whisper of his voice. Responding to him means confirming that he's right, that unfortunately, I'm right, too and I don't want to be ill.

'Esme?'

Nope. I'm fine. Just because my back is splintering, because my head is full of rocks and because my stomach is churning, doesn't mean that I'm not okay. I don't want to be ill.

'Love?'

He hardly moves and yet it feels like the floor around me is caving in. The weight isn't bearing down his side of his mattress, now. It is half perched in mid-air with a look towards me and a blistering ounce of confusion written on his features. My frown deepens and I do my best to continue counting in the hopes it'll stop the urge to vomit. I _really_ don't want to be ill.

'I'm fine.' I say quickly and I have to say it before he does any kind of probing because I'm too tired to be convincing.

He shifts closer, leaning up on his side to look at my oily face. His breath is stifling on my cheeks. Our mint toothpaste burns rather cools my features and for a bit of air, I push my fringe out my face to find it is soaked with sweat. Just when I was shivering too.

'Just wanted to make sure you're okay?' He asks anyway.

'Mmm hm.' I don't want to risk opening my mouth so I sit up.

As expected, I'm sticky, flushed in my cheeks with my chest rising dramatically. Even when the air feels hot, my teeth chatter loudly, forcing me to bite down to stop my shoulders convulsing. Cautiously, he presses a reassuring hand to my back resulting in a jump when the damp cotton is pressed into my spine. We could pretty much wring the damn thing out.

'Why is it so cold in here?' I gasp, another violent shudder leaving me helpless as it steals the last of my energy.

'It's not.' He says quietly. Despite the darkness, I see the expression on his face, the raise of his eyebrows.

'Don't you dare.' I warn him but he's already made his diagnosis, and unlike me, isn't about to plead ignorance.

'It's not your fault, Es?'

'Don't say it, I'm perfectly fine. It's just hot in here?' It's ridiculously hot in here, so hot in fact that I'm gripping the blankets to me and huddling beneath my arms.

Leaning across, he passes along a glass of water from his side. I didn't realise how parched I was. It's cold and lunges at my throat like ice to hot sand and within seconds, I've drained it all, not leaving a drop left to land on my lip.

'Would you like another?' he offers, still trying to get a glance at my features but after that Olympic drinking, I'm desperate to catch a breath. As well as stop the stabbing pains.

I try to argue it and sustain my independence but my legs don't want to move properly which means it takes a very long time for me to make my way to the bathroom. I have no idea what the time is, I'm just aware that I was wrong earlier and the moment the cold water runs over my shoulders, I melt into oblivion. Oblivion means headaches, however, and not just headaches but further violent shivers and a gut that is more fluid than liquid itself. It's not even five minutes before my body gives up on itself and I find myself hurling. For at least two fucking hours, I swear.

He taps softly on the door, still surrounded in the dark of the hallway, just about to cross his foot into the bathroom when I forbid him from moving any closer.

'Stay there.' I croak, coughing up several more times so that my nose burns and my throat stings.

'Es, I'm a doctor. I deal with sickness all the time. Let me help?'

I vigorously shake my head and regret the movement immediately because it reminds my unsteady organs of the power that is movement and several more rounds of coughing up vomit paints our toilet bowl.

'Please?'

'Stay there!' I repeat and I'm proud of myself for using enough of a tone to give me a bit of space.

The air of the bathroom isn't much better than the bedrooms. It's still too hot and makes water seep down my neck like cars in a drag race but like the grown-ass woman I am, I tie up my hair, wash my mouth several times and let myself slip against the wall furthest from the shitter. Once he's seen my intentions, he copies, abiding to my instructions and avoiding my spoken barrier as he leans against the door frame but in the hallway.

'Are you okay?' Carlisle asks and there's a slight arrogant tone to his questions.

'Go away.' I whine, catching a breath.

He doesn't like the fact I've disregarded his title and at this moment in time, I couldn't give a fuck. My body can't handle effort. Another glass is pushed along the tiles towards me. I eye it greedily.

'Sip it.' He reminds but I take my independence one step too far and guzzle it down. I bring it back up not even seconds later. My hand only just grabs the rim of the seat, dinner and various other foods now being expelled like demons into our pristine bowl and like the know-it-all he is, he can't help but break my rules.

My body lurches, the drool hanging from my mouth like poison as I spit repeatedly, my body shaking and it's just as I'm mid-expelling that I feel his smooth hand rubbing up my back, not as gently as I'd expect but somewhat useful.

I'm pissed off that it's helping.

'Cullen!'

In silence he hands me the glass of water.

'Please just fuck off, I don't want you to see this.'

'Why?' He asks curiously and before I even have to move he's handing me tissue and then my toothbrush with the perfect amount of toothpaste on the bristles. The smell is making me feel ten times worse so I don't know how the hell he's coping.

'Because I'm repulsive.' I say around the brushing of my tongue. He couldn't seem less bothered.

'Not at all.' He swears and knowing exactly what I want, he drops a towel around me in attempt to make me feel better.

Typically wearing his white T-shirt, I regret not being more focused to appreciate the loose boxers on his person and for no particular reason, it makes the air hotter but not necessarily in a good way. The shape of his calves, the pale skin, the tense thighs, his manhood and here I am looking my absolute worst and smelling disgusting. The air compresses down onto my bare shoulders as I take another drink and then another.

'I hate being sick.'

'I know, Hon. Give yourself a few moments, wait till you feel sure.'

He returns within moments carrying a bucket coated in the strongest disinfectant smell I think I've ever encountered and it makes my head hurt.

'Last time I was this ill I was doing _Jager_ with Alice. Even then, I wasn't vomiting this much!' I'm not a vomit-y person and it's very rare that someone can drink me under the table.

'I remember.' He chuckles, his eyes sympathetic and he sits cross-legged by me. 'Just let me know if you need anything?'

'Is this why you're a doctor? Because you're never ill?'

In total honesty, attempting to speak to him is one of the stupidest things I decide to do because it means forcing the most head splitting pain into my body voicing just one coherent word after the other. Though suddenly I feel like hearing speak him might help. At the very least it's comforting having him so close to my miseries.

'The last time I was sick was back when I was bringing up pool water.' He's patient as he waits for me to respond but not intrusive.

'You proud Son-of-a-bitch.'

Once more, he chuckles.

'Can you stand up okay?' Just in case, he poses an open palm out towards me. My knees are the problem though my legs aren't much better but we manage to get to the preferred standing position as he holds the bucket behind him. 'Did you want to try and get some sleep?'

I lift my chin. 'Mm. But I think I want to sleep in my room?'

'Are you sure?' He repeats and I can't understand the sudden concern. Unless maybe it's that I'll choke in my sleep.

'I don't want to make you ill.'

'Oh.' He says. 'If you're sure?'

I nod again and stumble my way back into my room. If it could even be classed as that. Everything is too white and busy rather than the sleek and classy darker colours of Carlisle's room. The air is luckily not stifling but its worse. The cold stings my arms, my face and the sheets feel like Greaseproof paper around my skin. Though that doesn't stop him. He helps me into my usual side of the bed, fetches me a glass of water, the bucket and several more blankets when he sees I'm shuddering. In fact, he very much goes above and beyond the usual doctor's route. He fixes the window for me, turns off the lights and on my insistence, stays on the borderline in the hallway, chatting softly to me about work until I fall quickly back into sleep.

An hour later and I'm up rushing to the bathroom again to repeat my actions. This time, I don't get chance to tell him to piss off. He's holding back the loose strands of hair with one hand and rubbing a cool palm along my back until I've finally stopped coughing. I'm sweating even more now, drinking greedily with even less energy than earlier but he simply repeats his actions with the same effort as before.

'You're okay.' He murmurs soothingly, knuckles coming up my spine as I rinse and repeat. I wish I'd decided to look away from him because I'm almost gasping for air. He's noticed. The curve of his eyebrow proves it. 'How are you feeling?'

Crouching towards me, he settles the back of his hand on my forehead. I use the last of my effort to roll my eyes. Then his hand moves to hold my cheeks, my neck. I'm starting to wish his hands were cool like the marble they resemble and less likely to soak up the heat bunching about my hair but he doesn't seem repulsed.

'A little warm.' I admit. His hum agrees and he pulls me to my feet again. The walk to my bed is harder this time because I'm more tired and have been further emptied of the very things I need for energy.

The same routine happens twice more until I realise he's decided to sit outside my room waiting for the next round. I have nothing to bring up this time just water and sure as hell, that comes up in litres. My body is still flitting between freezing and overheating but I'm back to the Spanish island stage and continue to pour sweat out just from breathing.

I don't walk to bed, I get carried there pretty much but I think he knows the appreciation will come when I can be bothered to give it. For now, I'm sticking to the role of self-centred and nauseous person who is so pathetic that the only way to ignore the pain in every crevice of the human anatomy, is to breathe loudly.

The duvet is pulled up to my shoulders, a delicate hand gently massaging my disgustingly foul scalp but he waits till I'm at my weakest to pounce.

'Can I stay?' He begs, softly, no louder than I need him to be and I really hate myself and him for making him everything that I both need and want.

'Go to bed.' I groan, guiltily and I'm angry that he kisses the top of my head goodnight and does as I ask. Him and that fucking cologne of his is the only salvation I'll admit to having at this moment.

'Carlisle?'

He stops just outside my door, tilting his head back to me, his fringe slipping into his view, his delicate smile being everything I want for a bit of relief.

'Can I have a cold cloth?'

'Of course.'

The next thing I'm aware of is the cooling material on my face as it dampens the burn of my temperature. It's heaven. Or the only chance of heaven I'll be granted while feeling this shitty.

'Can you rub my back, too?' I ask, weakly and like a helpless infant, he dotes on my every need. Except that this is not an infant like scenario and though it is innocent, there's also something thrilling about the way his fingertips dance along my back, soothing the aches with little movement and sending me into the soft power of sleep while keeping my face cold and refreshing.

Two hours later and I'm so cold, I think I should start up an ice rink. It starts off with shivering and then they get worse and more violent and within moments, I've wrapped myself up in all the same blankets, huddled around the body heat about me and pressed myself to his back.

He hums gently when I fidget, his hands moving along my back again as if guilty for stopping. Yet as he feels the violent shiver under his palm, he wakes himself up to move closer.

'Sleep will help.' He promises and it nearly makes my heart ache as badly as my head when he wraps his arm around me and holds me to his warm chest. I keep shuddering for the moment. Then slowly, they slip away and the hot breath I'd been hating earlier quickly becomes my relief.

'Talk to me.' I murmur and though I don't want to wake him, there are so many areas of discomfort going on in my body that I just want to focus on anything else. Anything.

'What would you like to hear?'

Realistically I'd like to hear anything but I'm aiming for the least painful and easiest thing my interest grasped from earlier.

'You said you were taught to cook?'

He nuzzles my gross hair, soft lips warming up my insides as he keeps me warm and sleepy under such security. My hand unconsciously tightens around his shirt, clutching the fresh scent from the fibres and holding onto them.

'I was.' He confirms, his narrative softening into storytelling mode. 'By the chef. I was never meant to have met her but circumstances often lead to her taking care of me, especially while young. She couldn't speak a word of English and so I had to learn Italian in order to understand her. She'd start by naming fruits and vegetables, giving me little phrases to learn and having me repeat them before starting on sentences and then conversations. The market was close to the site and when I was permitted, we would walk along the cobblestones, through the alleys with houses as tall as towers…'

And before long, I'm calm enough to sleep once more.

* * *

By morning, I discover there is no such thing as mercy in the world. Just when I thought I was done, I'm corrected. My head is throbbing, my back aching, both shivering and sweating once more. I lay here a little longer, appreciating the sudden space in the bed while hating it too. The churning in my stomach twisting uncomfortably. I manage to hold it down for a maximum of three minutes forty. Then leaping from the bed, luckily still dressed, I rush into the bathroom and throw the door wide open, ignorant to roar of the shower and the steam alike.

Carlisle obviously leaps out of his skin when he realises I'm awake again but throws himself to the wall in what could be a mix of humiliation and shock. My brain doesn't have time to take it in. Not even the fact that for a second it definitely looked like he had a hand around himself.

'Christ, Esme!'

For the moment, I ignore him as I hang my head over the toilet bowl and fucking hurl my guts out again. It comes rushing out dramatically, burning my throat as it pours out of me.

'We need a second bathroom, huh?' He jokes, barely loud enough over the water stream.

From what I gather, he's shaking his wet hair under the water but I am not moving until the heaving stops. It doesn't stop immediately, the drool slips off of my tongue and miserably, I spit my way into ridding the putrid smell of vomit from myself.

I can't tell what he's doing, though if I just moved my right arm, I'd be able to. I assume, he's still washing but he no longer seems shy. It wouldn't matter anyway, I'm not exactly going to jump him. The shower turns off, followed by a few sentences under his breath but I'm still patiently waiting to see if I'm safe from vomit-Ville again.

'Water?'

'Please.' I reply, hearing the echo of my words and a few coughs in the toilet bowl. Urgh, my head hurts so freaking bad. 'Maybe a towel?'

'Anything else, Madame?' He teases, passing a glass towards me but rather than drink it, I hold it to my forehead and breathe deeply a few times.

'My toothbrush.'

There's a kind of soft sentence from him before I feel a towel wrapped around my shoulders followed by him holding out my toothbrush exactly as he's been doing all night. I snatch it from him and hurriedly brush my mouth out with the burning mint.

'Please be gentle. You don't want to damage your gums?' He chuckles at his own joke and another towel is dropped to my knees.

Oh God. Mid-brushing, I gag and because I gag, I vomit and drop my toothbrush in the toilet surrounded by red and white bits of stomach lining.

'Ow,' I whimper, feeling really fucking victimised, the corner of mouth dropping dribble into the bowl.

'Oh, Love.' He whispers, humorously. I can't be arsed, I'm fucking exhausted and these towels are doing fuck all and my head hurts and I just feel so unbelievably shit.

'Have we got any new toothbrushes?'

Ever noticed how hard it is to speak after you've vomited too many times? Another is passed to me and I try again to clean my mouth. He presses the flush, grimacing at the colour.

'How bad are you feeling?' He asks, hoovering close by my side. I look up for the first time since entering the bathroom. I didn't even hear him turn the shower off? Yet here he stands, a towel around his waist, technically naked with his torso on show and I'm wasting it. His voice as relaxed and as genuine as normal. So thanks for the towels. I shake my head, then pause because it's making me feel sick again.

It's not even worth an answer. The ceramic bowl doesn't look so sparkling clean with my stomach contents sploshed onto it. He squeezes my shoulder affectionately but I pause thinking I'm about to hurl again….and the moment passes.

I turn to make a face at him. He's sitting on the corner of the bath, smiling looking very refreshed and very eager to continue his day, the water droplets stopping at the hips of his towel. Least he tried to cover up this time. But I like it when his hair is a mess. It looks hotter.

He chuckles so that it plays in his dark blue eyes like a little spark. I spit the mint out until I'm dribbling into the toilet again. My head still spinning and up comes the last of the water.

'You're okay.' He continues to say, rubbing a hand on my back as my body tries to expel every repellent and germ littering my stomach.

'Cullen. Fuck off.' I groan, swatting him away as I gasp for the relief of air. He's gently humming again, kissing the top of my head before doing as I asked and stepping away.

'If you need me-.'

'Go!'

I don't want to even think about vomiting anymore with him in the room. I'm sick a few more times and shit out the entirety of my intestines but he gives me space. So I lay on the floor for a good five minutes, exhausted and completely without energy. Maybe an hour and then there's a knock on the door.

'Are you decent? Can I come in?'

I groan in reply. The words I'm trying to say are a 'if you must'. Luckily, he can speak every language known to man and translates this easily, pushing the door open to find me sprawled.

'Oh Hon.'

'Urgh.'

Another groan from yours truly. He's dressed now and his soap is giving me pain in every sinus possible. He crouches to where I am and combs my hair away from my face.

'You need rest.'

I shake my head initially but it's only because I can't move and I don't want to move and I feel so shitty. I let my eyes close again, lying on the tiles where it's coolest, my cheek pressing into them.

'Esme?'

'I have class.' I croak, weakly.

'Not today.' With gentle arms, he manages to pull me up and hold me to him, ready to carry me to his room but I insist on mine again. He's reluctant at first, knowing how bloody uncomfortable it is, I'm sure, but after fetching me a few extra pillows, kisses my forehead and encourages me to sleep it off.

'Call me if you need anything.'

I can't even be arsed to answer him.

Thankfully, I find I do quite well to sleep off the majority and I don't wake up till past twelve. At which point, I'm running to the bathroom again. I'm exhausted but I can't sleep anymore and with a flannel pressed firmly against my forehead, I stand towards the stairs.

Typically, he's leaning against the bannister, blue eyes locked on mine, a fresh glass of water in his hand.

'Need any help?'

'I'm coming downstairs now.' I murmur. 'I can't sleep anymore.'

'Only if you're sure?'

I nod tiredly and because I'm really struggling to get these feet moving, I allow him to help me down. He's utterly brilliant and when I curl up on the sofa, he wraps as many cushions and blankets around me, places a bucket close to my head and makes another cold drink. I'm regretting being grumpy but my stomach is hurting and I can't make an effort to speak.

The window has been delivered which I assume he'll be wanting to fix soon and out of ease, I don't give it a second look, focusing on the television instead. There's nothing interesting on it.

Though I can hear him try not to, after a while there's several curses coming from the kitchen. I've slept again. It's closer to three and though I'm feeling crap, my energy levels are rising.

'Goddammmit.' He hisses, and suddenly there's a clatter of metal. I'm awake anyway and I don't have the effort to yell so instead I wrap the sheet around my shoulders and stand in the kitchen doorway.

I think this is an image I need to document, fall in love with and remember for the rest of my life. He's bent over the washing machine, fiddling about with the back and pressing buttons at the front, all the while driving himself into irritation. His hand are slight but look black against the machinery and his forehead is creased.

'Need a plumber?'

He turns, his expression guilty as he holds his hands in place. 'I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry.'

'Need any help?' I offer and I think we can both guess how little help I'll be when after five minutes, I have to sit down again.

'I don't know what the heck Edward has done to it. I leave it working and return to it-' he rams his hand into one of the back pieces, alarmed when the noise starts up and all of a sudden, the washing machine starts to fill up. 'I wasn't expecting that.'

The grin he returns me is almost childish in his glee, sweetly innocent and proactive.

'You're _so_ hands on.' I say quietly and for half a play, I raise an eyebrow at him.

'When you're feeling better.' He promises and that's all he says before a charming smile of his makes my stomach flip. The movement is painful though and with my vulnerable tummy as it is, I rush upstairs.

'Hon, there's a bowl down here?'

The bowl means nothing. I'm not even vomiting, I'm just dry heaving and it's causing the worst kind of cramps I think I've had in a long time. I'm thankful for the five minutes he grants me of space and even more grateful that he ends my five minutes of space with his presence.

'Come on, Love. Back to bed?'

My posture is slump against the bath, my knees shaking uncontrollably when I try to use them so instead he gently gathers me up close to him and lets my head roll to his neck.

'I want to be downstairs.'

'You need sleep.' He insists, and despite his sweet tone I know I'm not going to argue with this.

'Let me sleep on the sofa? I'll be quiet?'

He wants to hesitate but I think he knows that the reminder of vomit isn't where I want to be. His arms are warm around me and settle the shivers as he descends the steps.

By the time I'm wrapped up on the sofa again, he's chosen, on my demand, to sit with me, close to where my feet are, writing up something on his laptop as he scans the textbook next to him. I keep slipping in and out of sleep, my eyes heavy but this time around I'm shivering again clenching my stomach painfully and holding my breath.

'Try to relax.' He says soothingly but I can't help it and my hands grip my skin, my shoulders and teeth chattering as I curl up tighter.

He reaches out again, finger on my back when I swat him away but as he moves, I change my mind and grab his hand again, pulling it to my aches and pains. 'Keep going?'

'Sure?' He asks but he feels how I relax under him. My stiff body loosens as he kneads my back, warming the skin and making the tight muscles drift into comfort. It's cruel of me but it means for the next few hours, he does his work one handed.

I'm fidgeting again. It's horrible. One minute I'm fine, next I'm not. I can't deal with it, it's the worst. I just want it to be over.

'You're looking flushed, Sweetheart.'

'I'm cold.' I complain, hiding in the duvet. He feels my cheek, his fingers soft and cool and makes a different expression.

'Would you like a hot water bottle?' I nod as enthusiastically as I can manage. 'There's a condition.' He warns. I frown, shifting to him to prove my irritation. He looks sympathetic at first, and obviously wild attractive.

'You're hot. I'll do you a hot water bottle on the condition you take off one of the blankets.'

If this was an attempt to see me naked, it was a shit one.

'Eurgh. Carlisle! I want the blanket.'

'I know you do.' And he makes an effort to stroke my hair, fingers slipping through the fallen strands as he tries to weave them back into the bun.

'Can't I have both?' I plead softly but he shakes his head, decided. 'Please?'

He's refusing to back down.

'But I'm freezing!'

He's smarter than he looks and doesn't vocally press the matter further. He does move to make the water bottle and once I've reluctantly disregarded on the duvet, hands it to me to curl up against. He works for another few minutes but stops when he sees I'm getting uncomfortable and with a gentle movement, he pulls me into side and lays his head on the arm rest, his arm curled around me.

'Are you okay?'

'Feel a bit nauseous.' He admits but that doesn't stop him making me better.

I think we both must fall asleep together and even when Edward comes walking through the door, he doesn't even feel tempted to take the piss. He just sits in the arm chair, eyes on the book in his hand while he listens to the TV.

To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure how I ended up so wrapped around Carlisle's body when I feel like utter trash but he's warm and surprisingly, more comfortable than the sofa. Even with my hand on his T-shirt, we're not flirting. We're resting.

'How are you feeling?' Edward asks, flicking his eyes up to the both of us. I can't tell if Carlisle opens his eyes, all I know is that we both grunt in response. 'Take it no work today then?'

'Or tomorrow.' Carlisle adds and just the tone is enough for me to realise he's talking about me, too. No work. There _are_ some upsides to being ill. But I don't want to phone, I don't want to think about how much trouble I'm going to be in and I really don't want to step even close to that stupid coffee house. I need to slow down, I'm feeling sick again.

'I have a question…'

This time I feel Carlisle move his head towards him. Edward hesitates I think, playing with a grimace in his throat because he's weirdly concerned for once.

'I want to invite Bella round for dinner?'

There's silence as I assume the question is posed to me.

'Now?' He asks, his voice resonating dangerously in his chest.

'No, not now. Thursday?'

Carlisle grimaces. 'I'm not sure how we're both going to be feeling, Edward…'

'How _are_ you feeling?'

'Shit.'

'Do you want some paracetamol?'

'Kissing my ass isn't going to help. For now I'll say a provisional yes but it's not set in stone.' I don't know if Carlisle's tone is based on the fact that I've infected him or because he's tired, nevertheless I can't help but smile. 'But I really don't feel hosting is a good idea. Isn't it Emmett's turn?'

'No…' Edward says quietly. 'I'm just inviting Bella… only Bella.'

Finally I open my eyes. 'Only Bella?' I repeat, my voice thick.

From across, Edward peers up from his book and shyly nods, his hair a complete mess as he drums a tune onto the arm of his chair.

'Yes.'

'Edward?!' I pull myself up, struggling with the dizziness for a moment but Carlisle doesn't move. He's looking paler than normal. ' _Only_ Bella?!'

'Yes.' With an amused smile, he rolls his eyes, forcing himself to return to his book though I know he's not reading it. Carlisle on the other hand is keeping a regimented breath tucked into his mouth.

'What kind of dinner do you want? Like a takeaway or like a big home-made meal?' I ask and despite my stomach ache and my heavy head, I want to know what he is hinting at. 'What does this mean?'

He looks guiltily up to me, a smile hidden on his face with his cheeks tempted to blush. 'Nothing.' He murmurs but he's grinning.

'Well how ' _all-out_ ' to I have to go? Like three course meal or bigger?' Despite my crappy day, I'm thrilled by the idea and I have no idea why.

'Es.' Carlisle murmurs and it's a way of him begging me to not fidget so much.

'Whatever you'd like…'

'Edward!'

'What?' He says, laughing.

'Tell me! What's happening?'

'Well if you're both up to it, I was hoping for dinner? You are the best chef I know.'

I feel like the slight smirk on Carlisle's face is a warning for me to not be easily swayed but I don't want to bother him too much when he's not feeling his best either. His hand hasn't moved from my back.

'But what's going on!' I insist, suddenly finding the effort I'd been needing all day. 'Is this a thing? Are you guys a thing?!'

'Are _you_?'

'Okay.' Carlisle announces, groaning. He carefully slips his arm from around me, frowns and climbs the stairs in two. The bathroom door slams shut and I have a two minute show-down with the kid in question.

'I hope that wasn't him answering?'

'Shut up, Edward.'

* * *

It's not that late but we're no help to each other downstairs and though I've been lucky enough to stop vomiting, I'm still feeling awful. Edward doesn't say anything else but he keeps raising his eyebrows at me like I'm a child and because I don't want to think about the answer, let alone Carlisle's (hopefully coincidental response), I bid him goodnight.

My hand knocks on the bathroom door, expecting to find what he did this morning but he surprises me in pulling the door open, brushing his teeth, his hair flicking up in crazy angles.

'I'm sorry.'

'What for?' He asks, drying his mouth with a fresh towel and washing his hands thoroughly.

'Making you ill.'

'I'm okay.' He sighs. 'I'm just going to go to bed.'

'Me too.' I whisper. He nods in response, his eyes purple and his features weak with their usual character. 'Well I suppose… I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Goodnight…' He agrees, stepping forwards. He presses his lips to the top of my head, his hand slipping over my shoulder. 'If you need me…?'

'Vice versa, Hon.'

He doesn't shut his door properly but neither do I. I just lay in my foreign bed, cold, uncomfortable, bored and unable to sleep. After forty minutes he knocks on my open door.

'Are you okay?' I ask, sitting up.

'Lonely.' He admits, mouth turned down.

'I can help with that?' I offer, a weak smile returning. 'Besides, it makes no sense to stay apart when we're both ill.'

'You're right.' He agrees and he waits for me to grant him space before climbing in next to me and tugging the shet over himself, tired eyes watching me.

He's hot, a little more than usual, his skin burning up as he lays next to me, his face buried in his arm, his hair busy and damp with the sweat from his neck.

'Carlisle?'

His eyes are closed, his breath hot on my spine despite the open window, his hand buried as he curls towards me.

'Mmm?'

'You look warm.'

'I feel warm.' He whispers, a smile light on his face.

'Take your clothes off then?'

He knows I'm joking because he smirks, his frown playing a sweet tune on his face. Or rather, I'm not joking but the heat is unbearable and I can't send him away. The bed shifts and with a loud thump, I throw my t-shirt in a ball to the nearest chair followed by my shorts… and then my underwear.

'Esme….'

'What?' I ask, semi-innocently. I know what I've done but I actually don't care, I'm just tired. I want sleep, I'm less likely to burn now.

He's quiet for the moment, his breaths slipping down my bare back but when I turn to him, I see his eyes are still closed. So I keep my eyes closed too and use the blanket as the only cover I need as I settle down to sleep. Besides, the clothes were constricting my stomach which is the least of what I want right now.

With another delicate groan, the mattress moves again and not only does a shirt come flying towards the wall I'm facing but the boxers also. This is going to be the greatest thing in the world tomorrow… The greatest.

'Are you…?' I start to ask.

'Yes I'm naked. But please don't turn me on, my stomach can't take it…'

' _Me_ turn _you_ on?!'

His chuckle is sweet and he curls an arm over the blanket to rest at his leg. Despite what he's said… we're both too ill to care. No one gives a shit. No one cares. We both need rest. So I lean behind me to pull his arm across my stomach.

'Es…' He warns. 'I can't get any closer.'

I'm assuming that the smirk on his face is because of his supposed danger-factor. Little does he know I'm using this as perfect ammunition for a good night in once I'm feeling better. I'm rather grateful he's comfortable enough to get naked, too.

'I know.' I accidently sigh but bury my head a little more into the pillow. 'Sleep well, Carlisle.'

'And you, Hon.'

* * *

I suspect it makes me a bad person but I don't wake once throughout the whole night. Not even though I know he's got his dick out. Not even when I hear him chucking up and not even when he shivers beside me. My hands just unconsciously seeks and holds him at a distance while we both try to fight for a little bit of peace.

It's difficult. I'm feeling better, weak and tired still with a drum for a head but I'm not nauseas when I awake. Unfortunately Carlisle is suffering and he's being stubborn about it. I try to make him a drink, to intervene, to offer to phone his place of work to let them know but he just denies the option and climbs back into bed. Unlike me, he literally does sleep a lot of it off and though I try to offer what I can of my company, my attention is soon acquired elsewhere.

By afternoon, Edward and I are sat opposite each other in the living room. The TV is playing old fifties music that we both keep commenting on as we play a game of cards between us. He's been better dressed than he is todau but he promises he's not ill with a food-stained shirt. He hasn't put his phone down since I saw him with it and his eyes move to the screen after every flash of a notification.

'Weren't you supposed to start work today?' He asks, handing me the Jack of hearts that I asked for and refusing to look up.

'Carlisle phoned them. He's written a note, too.' I found it earlier this morning on the side in the kitchen. I guess it was just another way to avoid trouble but it still felt like he was somewhat bitter about having to write it. For some unknown reason, I feel like Edward agrees.

'That's good.'

'Yep.' I reply.

'Got any sevens?' He asks quickly, replacing the original words from his mouth. I pass them over. 'When do you go back?'

'Tomorrow.' I say bluntly. Though in reality, I'm not even sure I'll have a shift.

'Definitely returning then?'

'Yes.'

'You're _sure_ about this?'

'Edward…'

'What? Your boss _was_ looking down your shirt.'

'I know.' I say hastily and then a tired mutter falls off my tongue. 'I know, okay? I just haven't got a choice.'

'You've always got a choice.'

'Yes, poverty or prostitution. Which one shall I choose?'

'Personally I'd favour poverty.' Announces a voice from behind my head and though he's smiling, he sounds stern. 'Poverty, any day.'

My damp hair sways as I turn and my lips shift up into their delusional smile. 'I didn't realise you were awake? How are you feeling?'

He snorts. Bad question.

'Would you like anything to eat?' I offer, standing up too quickly and letting my remaining hand of cards drop into Edward's lap.

He tries the smallest bit of bread but like me yesterday, struggles to stomach it. I try to advise on bed again, Edward does too before he leaves for class, and pretty soon we get him as close to the sofa. We should know just looking at him he's not well. He's exceptionally pale, his shirt loose on his hot skin and his joggers hanging low on his hips where he can't be bothered to tighten the strings properly. How selfish of me to enjoy such a blissful sight of his torso.

'Thank you for your note.' I say softly when he eventually settles his arse down. Likewise, his back is hurting, I can recognise it in the state of his posture but I'd reckon his head is about ten times worse than mine. He's struggling to keep from squinting. Even when I turn all the lights out for him.

'You're welcome.'

'Did you deliberately make it unreadable?' I ask, handing him a glass of water and tablets. He didn't ask for them but he looks relieved by my assumption and swallows them down quickly.

'Yes.'

'I appreciate it.'

As he nods, he positions his neck on the back of the sofa, hair falling upwards and throat on display. I stay standing above him for a little while longer.

'I should have next Tuesday off if you'd like me to drop it in with you?'

'No thanks.' I defuse quickly but I move on almost immediately because this isn't a great subject and my mind is made up. I'm going in tomorrow. I have to go in tomorrow. What's one week? One horribly exhaustive week? Maybe I'll take a knife with me? Oh Jesus, this dark humour as just taken a turn for the worst.

'Can you do me a favour?' He asks, closed eyes crinkling a little more with his frown.

'Of course, Hon?' At this, he smiles.

'Could you sit down? You're making me dizzy.'

'Oh. I'm sorry.'

What a strange request? I settle next to him on the sofa and pull my legs up, eyes captured of his complexion because I want to help but I don't really know what to do either. Still without opening his eyes, he moves his left hand towards me, asking for my hand. It's sweaty in mine and unable to pose an actual hold but still sweet.

'How much do you love me?'

'Pardon?' Curse this fucking illness making my head spin.

'Do you think you could read through my notes for me? I'd do it myself but I'm seeing double at the moment?'

'You want me to write up your notes?' I repeat confused and I'm glad I'm more distasteful in tone than I'd expected. Alright, so I'm feeling better. Doesn't mean I have the energy to write a proper sentence though.

He shakes his head, breathing heavily. 'No. Read them to me?'

'Oh.'

'You can say no?'

Suddenly his eyes are on me, the eyebrow raised, the shadow of a smirk hidden on his pale mouth.

Perhaps the reason for such an odd need is in his desperation to feel better. It comes at my expense. Everything I read out for him is awkward and I struggle at the Latin medicines to the point where I naturally misread a few Basic English phrases, too. His handwriting is beautiful, the layout pristine it's just the words which are causing me grief. I wonder if he's laughing at me but rather, he looks like he's taking everything in, even though he shouldn't be. He should be sleeping.

'Practitioners commonly believe that chronic bronchitis and… _emphysema_ … are further manifestations of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.' It's difficult to get out especially when he doesn't look like he's listening but I manage sure enough.

'Are you okay?'

'Emphysema? Isn't that another disease though?'

He nods. 'It's where the air sacks in the lungs damage and die leaving holes in its place. It's not very nice but certain antibiotics and steroids will help.'

'I forget that medicine is this miserable…'

He opens his eyes, softening his smile a little and squeezing my hand. 'It's not always? Think about how many people we're able to make better because of everything we learn?'

I smile, unsure of what to answer just yet.

'One of the officers that Charlie works with has COPD. He was smoking in the staff area and collapsed when I was on my way to work a few months ago. It's how I know Charlie. I knew him before, obviously. But he stayed in the waiting room for about three days before his family came in. Very honourable of him.'

'You're not allowed to tell me that, are you?'

He shakes his head.

'Charlie seems to like you?'

'I hope so.' He says softly.

'More so than Edward…' I tell him, hiding the roll of my eyes. I still had yet to discover if this is an anti-Edward thing or just an anti-boy thing on Officer Swan's part. Sure, Edward's impression wasn't fantastic but he's good to Bella. I've seen the flower receipts to prove it.

'They've met?' He asks.

'Yeah… When the whole bottle incident happened…' I remind him. He remembers suddenly, casting his eyes down as though guilty. The left hand of his drops mine though, reaching towards me with the palm up.

'May I?' He has his hands close to my knotted hair, looking around for the dreaded stitches. Another tired sigh leaves my mouth but he asked and I have no reason to say no.

'If you so dearly wish…' I say gently as a warning but he can't help himself. He angles his face to get a better look, gently brushes my hair out of the way and breathes sharply when he sees it. 'Satisfied?'

'Don't be mad?' He begs, stroking my cheek. 'You'd want do to the same?'

'Which is?' I ask.

'Critique your co-workers. I want to ensure their work is satisfactory.' He smiles, tiredly and I'm tempted to curl up into him before I remember it wasn't an hour ago, he was vomiting, too. 'It could've been worse. You're quite lucky.'

'I know.' I tell him, running my hands up his side. He neither flinches nor shivers which isn't necessarily a bad thing. 'I'm _exceptionally_ lucky, in fact.'

He frowns down at me, squinting but still smiling. I've angled my chin up again, begging for the addiction of his mouth with just a pout and nothing more. For today at least, he has to refuse me and though I don't blame him, I miss the feeling so deeply that I'd sell my soul to be well again. His hand returns to my colder hand, playing with my fingers and smirking.

'Forgive me?'

'There's nothing to forgive, I'm being very cruel...' I admit, watching him.

'The moment we're better…' He promises, drifting off deliberately.

'You don't have to tie yourself to false promises, Sweet. I'll get over it.'

'Esme…' He murmurs with a frown. 'You underestimate how much I want you.'

I shake my hair, brushing it away from my neck to give myself a bit of air. 'No. I just often force you into a corner. I need to stop it…'

'There's no forcing.' He corrects. It makes me feel even guiltier, how easily I managed to manipulate each situation till he couldn't do anything but give in to me.

'When you were to marry Chelsea…' I begin, shyly. At least I think that's what her name is? His silence assures me I'm correct. 'You said you were close. Did you mean attraction wise or-'

'She was my friend.' He interrupts gently, watching me bow my head to my knees and squeezing my hand.

'I know I kinda stole your first kiss off you but did you… ever want to kiss her?'

'You didn't steal it.' He argues, pathetically. 'But no, I didn't.'

He tilts his head back again, thinking before unexpectedly bringing his legs over my lap. They're heavy and warm beneath the thick cotton. I let my attention pry on them for a few minutes before realising he wants me to lay with him. It's unfair of me but I happily oblige, bringing my knee up to his thigh and wedging myself between his warm side and the material of the sofa. He's still unbearably hot against me but the open window is allowing a slight air to breeze over our hot faces and I deliberately avoid leaning his abdomen.

'Not even slightly?'

He makes a sound in the negative and stays still under me.

'Is that because of the sex before marriage thing?'

'Most probably…' He admits. 'There would've been a thousand complications if we'd done something careless… We weren't as close as you're assuming though.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. I like talking to you. It takes my mind off my stomach.'

'So what about when you got older? Once you'd discovered your libido? Did you ever want to kiss anyone then?' I hate the naivety in my voice when I say kiss so I add to it. 'Or more?'

'Not really.' He confesses but I suppose he's being minimalist for the sake of my embarrassment. I don't necessarily think I'm ready to here the current thought he's having. 'I'd never put my faith at risk like that. Or even consider doing so. Masturbating was bad enough.'

'So you were still hard-core Christian?'

'Yes.'

'What's changed?' I ask softly. He wasn't expecting this as told in his reaction. He tightens his arm around me, confused according to his hesitation. 'You were so devoted on staying pure before marriage… and not anymore?'

'That's a loaded question.' He murmurs.

'You don't have to answer?'

'I will.' He promises. 'It's just hard to answer completely but I'll try my best…'

He inhales deeply, taking a while to think of his answer as he lets me cuddle in to him, warming myself on his temperature. To think only yesterday I was desperate for sex and here I am…satisfied by a freaking hug. I'm losing my hormones.

'Firstly, I don't think I'd like to think I'd ever strayed away from my faith. Even with my reluctance to claim it… I still want to believe I'm as thoroughly devoted to it all. Morally and ethically. It does sometimes become difficult to appreciate with the mass corruption surrounding it, including the likes of my father, but… I didn't choose it. It chose me?'

It doesn't go unnoticed that he doesn't like the end of this sentence because he grimaces and makes a sound as if he's going to go running off again. So I deliberately avoid leaning too hard into him.

'It took for you to remind me of that.' He amends, clearly. 'To move on… There's complications with marriage in our current world. Marriage is not as strict of a promise as it once was and…I think it's often subjected too immediately. People get married before they know each other. It's easily broken and not easily fixed. To make such an oath to God… I'm not saying I don't agree with marriage because I do, wholeheartedly. I just think it's improperly aspired to sometimes. Especially within the church. People use it as clarification on commitment when commitment should be a promised state anyway…'

He groans slightly, leaning his head away. 'I've overcomplicated that completely.'

'Would you ever get married?' I ask.

'Marriage has never been something I could see myself in. I respect it and would be honoured to be married but… well it's complicated and a very big commitment.'

'So it's not marriage you don't believe in. Just remarriage?'

'You're making me sound cynical…' He complains. 'It's not remarriage in itself. Marriage is a beautiful thing, and remarriage too. Personally I couldn't bring myself to marry again. Except maybe if I was widowed which is a horrible thought.'

'You are cynical if you think people use it temporarily….' I tease him but I realise the tease is harsh and I could be offending him.

'If marriage wasn't both a legal and a religious term. If you could be legally married without it involving the matters of the church then I would have no qualms about it. I dislike the fact that you have to apply to one for the other. They shouldn't be a singular term. We shouldn't expect people to oath something they don't believe in… that's almost blasphemous.'

'So you want there to be marriage and then _Church marriage_?'

'I'm digging myself in a hole, aren't I?'

'No.' I say. 'No, it's very enlightening. I'm surprised you've managed to answer yourself so well.'

'I do believe in marriage and weddings. I'm all for them. The loss of them, however... it's heartbreaking.'

'That must be hard though? To think you nearly promised your life to someone you didn't love?' I suppose, quietly.

He thinks deeply on this comment, his blue eyes seming darker under the exhausted purple, his complexion statuesque and the feel of his skin running at an all time high. Yet despite all this, despite the fact he is repulsive, I am repulsive and I cannot have sex with him... I can't be worried. The fire beneath my organs still yearns for his comfort and though he's only speaking words at me, there has never been a better way to spend my day. Sex is both off the cards and irrelevant. My hands still tighten their grip on him ans with evry breath he gives, I want to know more.

'At that point, I didn't know what love was. I would've probably considered I _was_ in love in my naivety. So yes, that thought is somewhat alarming. Hence my reluctance.'

'It's irritating that even when you're not feeling well, you make perfect sense.' I complain but his delicate chuckle is soft enough that I can smile without malice.

'Lastly, it's not that I don't believe in sex before marriage anymore. I understand it. I'm for it in some respects.'

'Have I changed that?'

'Not completely.' He answers difficultly. 'Purity is a stupid term for people who don't quite understand the basics of human interactions. Admittedly, four years ago I would never have deviated but… you're _really_ sexy?'

'Carlisle.'

He laughs softly, rubbing his forehead where he's in pain but I don't move just yet. I wait for him to ask me to move which he doesn't want to do.

'There's a song that I can't think of the words which I feel like would explain myself. But I can't think of the tune, either…'

'What about the lyrics?' I push, hand gently resting on his chest.

'I'll find it sometime. Maybe it'll come back to me?'

The delicate frown appears as he tries to reconsider what song it could possibly be but it's vanished so he has to continue without it. 'It's not necessarily _you_ that's changed my mind, Esme. It's how I am when I'm with you. It's sort of about living for the moment and appreciating the nearest things you have that grant that _elysium_...' He stops himself, cringing at me. 'I know this is a bad time to say it and when I say 'bad-time', I mean horrific because not only do I feel nauseas but also it's only been a two weeks of this… Nevertheless, I'm not asking anything of you?'

'You're not asking anything of me?' I ask, coming up to look at him properly. He's still sweating and rearranges his shirt, a hand sliding down his face as he shakes it. 'Nothing?' I repeat.

'Am I missing something here?'

Why am I feeling like I want to cry?!

'What about if I wanted you to ask?' The words come out hastily from my mouth my heartbeat making my head spin and not in the way I want. He sits up too so that we're close to each other, one shivering and the other sweating.

'I'm confused?'

'What could you possibly be confused about? You'd never ask anything of me? You'd never want to?'

H's looking uncomfortable but struggles through to try and understand my point of viw but there's no way I can explain in. Especially at a time when I'm so overexhausted myself that I just need to curl up into his side and here him promise that everything's going to be fine. that there are things he wants to ask me.

'I don't know what you'd like me to say?' He confeses, troubled with a sweat appearing on his brow as he takes unusual breaths.

'It's like what Edward said. Are we a thing? I want to know where I stand, Carlisle! I want you to want to know, too!'

He's standing up now, looking frightfully pale and perhaps even incredibly guilty.

'Hold that thought?' He begs and then he quickly climbs the stairs, encouraging me to wait as he grasps time for himself in the bathroom. I give it a while before following after him. He looks even worse when the door opens, weaker than usual, his right foot leading his stance.

'Sorry,' he mutters, wiping the toothpaste from his mouth. 'I thought I was going to pass out.'

'Are you okay?' But he doesn't quite answer me, he just does as I did and slides to the floor to gather a minty breath. I move past him to soak a flannel and with a great amount of effort, help him to stand again. 'I've exhausted you, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be.'

'You need to go back to bed. You need rest.'

'Esme?'

'No arguments, Carlisle. Go.'

It's easier looking after someone than it is being looked after. I fetch the bucket and wash it out with fresh disinfectant before sternly tucking him into my bed. I open my bedroom window wider, close the curtains and turn off the light, offering a pint glass of water for him to drink.

'Esme?' He asks gently and in a matter of an hour he's drifted from normality back to being completely ill again. His cheeks are drawn in, his chest rising in dramatic breaths as he struggles even to sit up again.

'Rest Carlisle.'

'Can you help me get my shirt off?' And though he's tired, he's brave enough to smile shyly at me. I'm tempted to frown or at my worst, tell him off but instead I reach by his hips to wrench the shirt up over his head. The back is almost see through with his sweat and though he's finding it incredibly funny, he's too tired to laugh as hard as he wants to.

'Thanks.'

'Please rest?' I plead, encouraging him to lie down as I drape a damp cloth temporarily on his forehead. His hands are shifting beneath the duvet, awkwardly trying to tug off his bottoms but he's struggling and gives up easily.

'Fuck it.' He groans, laughing gently as lays through the middle of the pillows, lying on the side of his cheek. I roll my eyes again but move the duvet to help pull off his tracksuits until they're around his ankles and I'm tempted to laugh again.

'Little different from a few days ago, huh?'

'And the other week.' He replies, gratefully, his smile delicate.

'Sleep.' I urge him, a hand on his jaw as I push his fringe out of the way but he leans towards me, opening one blue eye.

'Stay?'

'I'm not making you feel better.' I argue though this is a point of discussion in his mind. Unusually, I find myself happy to settle close to him again and though I'm not always great around sick people, he's easy to fend for. I spend an hour or so pressing the cloth to his head and his neck before sliding it to his back and listening to the gentle snoozing of his breathing.

I don't want to think about how many responsibilities I've ignored today, there's too many of them to count but I know I'll get back to them tomorrow just as sure as he will. We sleep so soundlessly that once more, I forget the world around us, living instead for our time together.


	41. Reasons why communication is crucial

_**If you're not a fan of swearing: I suggest avoiding this rather brilliant chapter. It has brought me great joy. Thank you for your lovely reviews! Please R &R  
**_

* * *

What I'm sickened by most when I awake early Wednesday morning is the complete absence of sickness. There's no sickness, I am perfectly well to catch up on all the responsibilities I've avoided, I am no longer sick. Yet the sickness is replaced with an unusual ache. It doesn't hurt, in fact, it causes little trouble initially until I realise it's there and the moment I notice it, I feel like it makes the ache worse. It's like an excited burn fluttering painlessly everywhere at once while being nowhere. It consumes my body, my attention and for a while, I wonder if I should take paracetamol?

I roll my head to the side, unalarmed by the sleeping form resting on my left shoulder. The sunlight is seeping through my open curtains, a light morning breeze light on his reddened cheeks. He's soundless as he sleeps, too enraptured by his exhaustion to bare noise to the soft breathing on his lips. The cologne that usually tickles my nose is sweet and strong, working its way from his hair, past his muscled shoulders and slipping to where the blanket is pulled over our legs.

His heart beats, his slight torso expanding because of it as his hair tumbles onto the pillow, falling in thick strands close to my face. It takes longer than I care to admit to remind myself that I'm not only naked too, but on a similar display. I'm unusually sprawled on my back, my hands close to my face as he leans on me, turned away. He's not facing my bare breasts and I wonder his reaction if he realised.

I softly drag my fingers down his right cheek, smiling when he flinches and doing anything I can to soak in the feel of his smooth skin resting so comfortably on me. The sting of his addictive perfume only worsens by my touch. He's soft, his skin perfect against my own but weighted as I try to sustain him a little longer. Even now, I can't bear to waste his presence.

From this angle, with a smile biting my lips, it's easy to forget about the ache. I ignore a few more responsibilities for an extra half an hour, I busy myself with staring at him, familiarising myself with his delicate frown and a few hidden freckles before pulling myself away and gently kissing his forehead. He doesn't notice, just like he hasn't noticed my nudity, or his, instead he lets his head roll back with his neck elongating, his torso leading down.

I dress as quietly as possible, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt before grabbing my books into a bag and making my way to class. The moment my foot passes the front door, the ache returns and I have a quick urge to just turn around and stay indoors.

* * *

Lessons drag by far quicker than I would've liked. It takes ages and because I've missed so many lessons in two days, I spend a lot of time at the library, forcing myself to catch up. I should be going into work. I should be doing so many billions of things but I'm still tired.

So I go to work. But not the coffee shop, I go to the nursery to do a quick shift, finishing by mid-afternoon when my phone buzzes.

 _I'm feeling surprisingly better so I've come into work. Earlier Norovirus assumptions may be incorrect as the Walderman's are perfectly well. Please don't forget your stitches xxxx_

While I'm not necessarily pleased he's back at work, I can understand his thinking. Especially if he's spoken with Doctor Maddison. One main responsibility is left for me to do. I've got to do it.

My hands shake uncontrollably when I get my hands on the wheel and I have to wait until I've got a voice to start up the engine again. The coffee house building suddenly looks like a factory with the letters heavy in both of my hands. No one important is working on the front and even if they were, I doubt they'd really care. One guy asks me if I'm feeling better but my voice is gone from my throat so I just shake my head in case a scream comes out.

'You looking for the boss?'

I nod, waving Carlisle's note around.

'Hard luck, Es.'

'Why?' I ask, wearily.

'Two week holiday to Majorca. Stress or something?' Dan quickly returns to counting out the till, his dark hair slipping past his face into the loose bun behind his neck.

'Majorca?!' Majorca?! Could this day get better?! 'He's on holiday?'

'That is what I said?' He confirms, looking oddly at me.

'Well what about Tilly? Where is she?'

'Tilly?! Jesus, girl has no one phoned you? She's been suspended.'

'SUSPENDED?!' I repeat, the joy taking over my throat.

'Yeah. She attacked someone on a night out, apparently. Nothing major but you know what our Police are like.'

'Yeah.' I agree, monotonously. Nothing major and yet such words couldn't bring me greater joy. 'When is she coming back?'

'No idea. The police are reluctant apparently. They think she's a risk to the public.'

I have to tell Carlisle. I have to phone him immediately.

'Right, thanks Dan.'

Both letters I leave on the dreaded desk, sitting up in the keyboard where they'll go unnoticed. I've done my part, I've 'notified' them. Not my problem if he's not here to read it.

I'm meant to be working tomorrow and Friday and though part of me is still warning against it, it's the last chance to save a little more while I can. Besides, what does it matter? No one's going to bother me? My luck is turning up.

I try to tell myself that Carlisle isn't the only reason I'm rushing to the hospital but that strange feeling in my chest seems to want to disagree. My hands are still shaking, my knees twitching nervously as I make my way to the front desk. But sitting down is harder than you think when words just need to be freed from my mouth.

As he's turning the corner, he spots me and with a tired expression, gives me the closest thing to his genuine grin that I've seen in a few days. He nudges his head, quietly encouraging me to follow him, his suit pristine and his doctor's jacket hanging from him as he crosses his arms around his back.

'How are you feeling?' I ask behind his shoulder. He's quiet for the moment but I don't know if that's because he's tired, ill or nervous as to being spotted by a co-worker. I presume the first one because he's making no effort at hiding us.

'I ache a little.' He admits, lifting a shoulder.

'Me, too.'

Though for someone who aches, I don't blame him for not believing me. His sweet frown comes into play as he reads my grin, his own lips copying though he's not sure why. He's leading me to a cubicle, I presume, his hands close to where I'm leaning towards him but he's being strict with himself and refuses to greet me.

'Are you sure you should be at work?' I push, keeping my voice low but he chuckles and nods his head.

'They needed me.'

'And you need rest.'

'I'm better.' He promises quickly, turning so that I can see the ocean orbs of sincerity. 'Honestly, I'm much better. Just a bit of a headache and stuff.'

'Did you run to work?'

He looks guilty. 'Yes.'

'Carlisle! You know better than that.'

'I know but you needed my car and I'm still not sure what time I'll finish. There's hardly anyone in today, Maddison called me in a panic.'

I look around myself to the busy floor. I hadn't even noticed the multitude of patients or even the lack of staff. People are being rushed off their feet, patients are getting irritable and even though I'm sure Carlisle is telling the truth in that he's better, I know he's also not right.

'Well just let me know and I'll pick you up, okay? Or even drop your car off?'

He shakes his head. 'You don't need to do that, Hon, its been offered already.' He stops outside a cubicle and waves me in quickly, his eyes still stuck on my face as I beam at him.

As expected, he gets to work quickly, snapping on gloves and grabbing a trolley from close by. He swivels behind me, patting the seat of the bed to get me to sit before shining a lamp right on my scalp.

'Very thorough today, Doctor Cullen.'

'Sorry…' he murmurs quietly. 'We're just so busy today that it's easier for me to, _no offence_ , get you on your way.'

'Of course.' I agree. He leans to look at me properly to where I grin at him.

'You took that surprisingly well?'

'I have news.' I interrupt, excitedly. He's delicate as he sections my hair off, apologising quietly when he soaks my scalp in saline and gently numbing the area before pulling metal out of my head.

'Do tell?'

'Tilly's been suspended!'

'Suspended?' He repeats, widening the eyes.

'Yep! Charlie doesn't want her working with the public. Isn't it great?!'

He nods, a little less enthusiastic than me as he supports my excitement. My rambling takes speed.

'It's just fantastic timing because it gives me chance to get a head start on applying for a few other jobs. I mean, I already saw that advert about a school assistant which would really fit with my hours at university-'

He's not grinning as widely as I want him to.

'It gets better though?' I say, hoping to entice him in. He smiles and nods away. 'My boss is on holiday! I have two weeks to get prepared before I really do descend into poverty, isn't that brilliant?! I don't even have to see him.'

I feel his hands stop moving and when I look up, I find he's looking quite perturbed. His mouth is a line, the frown evident though he's trying to hide it and even when I have my legs shaking away, he can't share the feeling.

'You're going back?' He asks quietly.

'I've got no reason not to?'

'Es…'

'I haven't even got a stupid amounts of shifts but I suspect I could probably total them up, maybe do some overtime?'

'Why?'

'Why?' I repeat. 'What do you mean why? So I can look for something else?'

'Why are you going back?' He asks, still remaining quiet. He's busying his hands again and for once I feel like he's doing it to make him feel better rather than me.

'Because I have to?' I say easily.

'You can quit on the spot.'

'It's not worth the hassle.' I refute, watching him fight hard not to seem miserable. 'Why are you so against this?'

'It's dangerous.'

'So is driving, but I do that every day?' He's not impressed with the humour at the moment and the blue eyes flash to me completely void of any words. I breathe in. 'It's only going to be two weeks? One and a half considering it's Wednesday. It'll be over before you know it.'

'And what if he comes back?'

'He's in a different country, it's not exactly an easy hop back and why would he? I'm not going to offer much, am I?'

'You know this for sure?' The tone of his apprehension proves that there's nothing I will be able to say that'll soothe him.

'I haven't exactly checked the airlines but why lie?'

'Because it will lull you into a false sense of security.' He answers sharply. 'Because your boss is a sick bastard!'

'Carlisle?'

'What?' He snaps but his eyes close and he regrettably shakes his head. 'I'm sorry…'

'I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be so busy trashing the place, I won't even have time to make coffee.'

Again, he's not finding the comment funny.

'Please trust me?' I beg, offering another simple grin.

'It's not you I don't trust.' He answers, stepping away to place his wrist to his forehead. 'I didn't mean to take it out on you.'

'You haven't.'

'I'm just grouchy.' He excuses, refocusing back to my head and fighting hard to ignore his instincts.

'In that case, the moment you're home I'll run you a bubble bath?'

'I'm all done.' His sweet smile lightens, his laughter soft and brilliant. He steps away to take off the gloves, the purple bags under his eyes seeming more prominent under the lamp before he shuts it off. He really does need sleep but then so do I.

'Thank you.' I say, grinning widely at him. He delicately touches my chin with his cold hands, tearing his eyes away from my mouth. 'How much trouble will you be in for kissing me?'

'A lot.' He complains.

'We'd better be quick then.'

He hesitates, wanting to protest as he looks over to the curtain but I quickly lay a hand along his cheek and wrench his mouth to mine. Its fair to say he needs it more than it seems. His eyes close, his mouth relaxing around mine as he tries to hold onto the moment. The ache in my chest returns to the fire that makes my stomach flip and though I'd give anything to kiss him for the rest of the day, it's not possible.

'Thank you.'

'You don't need to thank me, Carlisle?'

He shrugs, his shoulder coming up slightly as he softens his gaze on me 'No, but I like to…'

'I really do wish you'd stayed at home. You're grumpy…'

He grimaces again, trying to fight off my worries with his charming smile but his lips aren't quite up to their full potential. Though I'm hoping he'll be better after a coffee or two. I lean towards him to kiss him again but the curtain squeaks behind us and though he doesn't need to jump on account of looking innocent, I feel my cheeks blush.

'Needed in cubicle six, Doctor Cullen.'

He nods, raising his clipboard as if to ask for a few minutes and raises an eyebrow at me.

'Alright, I'm going.'

'I'll miss you.' He says teasingly but I deliberately don't look back, I stalk out of there just when I know he's watching me.

* * *

The missed appointment with Doctor Browning is almost not worth rescheduling. Annoyingly enough she's as confused as Carlisle by my decision to stick out the coffee shop but doesn't try and persuade me against it. At the end of the day, it's down to my contract and I can't fix that. She tries to talk a little about my family but the conversation grows stunted and soon enough it slows to a point where I think we're going to call it quits.

'You asked for help last session?' She reminds me, swinging her foot up in a bounce as she watches me.

'I've dropped that off now, though so I don't think I'll need anymore?'

'You're not letting me finish.' She accuses, eyes brought down. I groan and wave my hand around. 'As I was saying you asked for my help last session-.'

'But it's done, I handed in my notice. I'm _fine_.'

'I want you to book another appointment.'

Unconsciously, I retract from her, my frown heavy and the ache in my chest aching reminding myself that perhaps I should listen to her inner-knowledge and let her talk. My hands twist awkwardly.

'Why?'

'Because I feel like you need one. You're still very dismissive, Esme.'

'I am also not a child.' I retort, standing my ground or rather, slinking into my seat like my back is now snakeskin.

'Sometimes I feel like we're on the cusp of realisation and then you say something which brings you straight back to square one.'

My eyes harden. I lean up towards her rather than away as if prepared to barricade myself with a fort or something. My hands are too warm for my liking and even though he's feeling worse, I'm jealous that Carlisle is so busy he can't spare a moment's thought to anything as trivial as this.

'Are you trying to offend me?'

'No.' She replies honestly. 'But the fact you've taken offence is telling.'

'I haven't taken offence.' I say, my voice stiff. She smirks, looking away as if she can't be bothered to fight with me.

'It's a great quality that you listen. Even when it seems like you aren't.' She pauses, hands clasped together as she leans towards me. 'But sometimes you need to talk just as much.'

* * *

That evening I spend over at the Walderman's. Carlisle still hasn't messaged me so it can be assumed he's still working and because of it, I manage to spend a few moments with Sarah, sat on her bed doing her daughter's make-up.

'Everyone's got their problems.' Sarah tells me, a hand settling close to my shoulder. I scrub at my forehead and with a smile, remind Serena not to fidget.

'But do they always need to be defined?' I argue, trying not to let the thought settle too deeply. Sarah smiles delicately, sipping at her drink while listening out to the boys downstairs. We've been sectioned up here since I turned up. The eleven year old wants to surprise them.

'To overcome them, yes.' She pauses, watching me focus on brushing a light colour along Serena's cheeks. She giggles delicately, excited and singing along to the TV behind me. 'I think it's less about mysteries and more about communication.'

'I guess.' I say, looking anywhere that isn't her eyes.

'Sweet, I don't know what's got you so concerned?'

'It's not concern, it's…confusion. I don't quite see why it's such a mode of contention.'

'For security. If you don't talk about things then how on Earth do you get to know someone?' She shakes her head so that her hair slips and then leads forward pointing to the palette in my hand. 'Ooooh that's a nice colour, I like how you've used it.'

'Thank you.'

She inhales, reaching across again to get me to look at her. 'Whatever Alice has said-.'

'It's not Alice.' I sigh, gently. 'It's not anyone, I'm just thinking.'

'About?' She probes.

'About families…' I reply, amazed at my honesty. 'I don't understand why there's this big effort to tie yourself to a blood-relative, to make the effort to get to know them when-… when they're not good people.'

'Is this about your family?' She asks and I shake my head. 'Carlisle's?'

I hesitate, I don't want to answer her, I don't want to think about it but I did bring it in the first place though I can't exactly remember how. Pathetically, I attempt to shake my head but she laughs and touches my arm.

'How did you know?' I ask.

'Please, Honey. We don't live under a rock. Pastor Cullen has been causing issues for that poor boy since the moment he moved here. Every sermon is packed with it.'

'Exactly. He spends every moment of his air-time tearing him down. Why is Carlisle suddenly trusting him?'

'Forgiveness is a blessing?'

'But he could get hurt.' I argue, surprised once again how easily I've slipped into this sudden conversation. She seems surprised too, because she asks Serena to fetch her something unimportant from the kitchen and takes my hands in hers.

'What's brought this on?'

'Nothing…' I say idly.

'Esme?'

I think about the ache in my chest, the burn and the devastation that came just from leaving him this morning. The way he says my name, the shape of his smile, his shy blush… and I'm overcome with unexplainable fury when I think about the harm that could come about just because some arsehole's got a bee in his bonnet because his son has hormones.

'What about if this mode of communication is just a ploy to brainwash him?' I worry.

'Do you honestly think Carlisle is the sort to be easily swayed?' She fights, her lipstick smile spreading wider.

'No… but you've already said he spends his _sermons_ criticising him. What is he going to do in front of a bigger audience? Especially when Carlisle's reputation is on the line?'

'Sometimes silence is more deadly. Everybody adores Carlisle, look at how many awards he's been given for his charity. Everybody praises him. Now look at his father. He talks incessantly, far too much and he's got enemies because of it.'

'So communication _is_ a problem then?' I decide. 'If you can talk too much then to maintain harmony you need-'

Serena comes running through the door, waving a bottle of water in her mother's face as she cuddles into her.

'You need balance.' Sarah finishes. 'But that's in everyday life. That's with people you meet on the streets, neighbours even. Not your friends or your family.'

'Right.' I say softly.

'Sweet, look at it this way. You love Alice because you know everything about her. It's what makes you close and the things that you know about her could easily create an enemy out of someone else but not _you. You_ love her.'

'I don't understand?' I admit, pushing my fringe up. Sarah smiles wider.

'The reason why Pastor Cullen has enemies is because he talks too much and out his-' she looks at Serena and then covers her ears to mouth the word 'ass' at me. 'Look at Carlisle. Do you think you guys would be such good friends had you not spoken?'

'But isn't that silence also safe? If we told each other everything then there'd be room for judgement, right?'

'No.'

'No?' I repeat.

'Not from your friends, surely. They're going to support you if that's exactly what you need. They might do it in unconventional methods but judgement is void.'

'So then talking _is_ necessary?'

'Absolutely.' She agrees. 'Anytime you worry about that just think about Alice, okay? No judgement just support. All which stems from talking.'

I don't want to say the words so I just nod my head, my hair slipping behind my shoulder. Alice is not someone I was thinking about, even with the earrings but suddenly hearing her name makes me feel even worse. That ache in my chest not able to settle while I'm thinking about the two of us all because of one man in question.

A man who has my head in knots.

To some extent, my friendship with Alice _is_ based on judgment. Emmett's, too. Maybe it was the judgement tied into the undeniable support. For example, her shocking lingerie choices. I might hate them but I support her. Could I honestly say she supported me? How many times had she been there to buy condoms with me after begging me not to sleep with someone? Billions. How many times has she complained about Carlisle in the last week, despite practically idolising him months before?

There are no numbers for such a figure.

Carlisle... Getting to know him can be one of the most thrilling and daunting things. Listening to him is easy. I asked if we are a thing because it's a question I don't want to answer myself. Selfishly, I'd rather hear his response but equally, I want him to _want_ to know. I want that communication but I don't want him to be hurt from it. Exactly like he is with his moron father.

Why is this suddenly getting to me?! After three weeks why has something this ridiculous started to take over my thinking? And why the heck does my chest hurt every time I think of him being hurt?!

For the next hour or so, Serena, thankfully, is so excited she takes all of the attention as she bounds with joy from one person to the next, dancing about to the Television as her mother and I try to fix her hair.

We fix her dress, play silly dance music, about to descend the stairs when Carlisle phones me.

' _Not too late, am I?_ '

'Course not, we've got five minutes yet.'

' _Fantastic. Let me just change my shirt and I'll pop round._ '

Serena is stunningly sweet in her blue and gold dress and it suits her hair in a way that is unbearably cute. I send a photo to Alice, commend them both on their choice and watch from the side-lines as Sarah presents her to her father.

Mark has his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorframe as if he's irritated. Johnathan is at his feet and though he pretends to be dismissive of her, the moment she appears in his sight, an accidental smile breaks as he watches her so proudly that I stay silent for the moment.

Despite her height, with a bit of effort, he cuddles her into his arms, reminding her how beautiful she is and returning the same compliment to her mother's features. It's sweet, very sweet and for just a moment I feel a strange surge of jealousy bite through me. Not just on the sake of father-to-daughter. That was something I should've been over a long time ago, rather the look of pride on Sarah's face as she photographs the three of them together.

I offer to take a few of them as a family, avoiding staring at the blissful joy in their grins from one parent to another because it's a private moment. The door goes and as I open it to reveal one hot-as-hell saint, he holds out his hand to drop the keys to me.

'All yours.'

'Aren't we due a second lesson? I haven't even done manoeuvres yet?' I say playfully, trying to smile in a particularly sweet way but he seems surprised.

'You'd like me to come with?'

'Obviously!' I remind him. I half pull him indoors, too so that he's not stood outside while looking _that_ good. 'You've got to tell me what you think.'

He greets the family as he steps over the baby gate and waits for Serena to perform a little twirl in her get up.

'Well aren't you looking _lovely_.' He compliments her. She beams looking up to her mother who's touching her cheek and soon, Mark offers a tough apology for his indulgence the other day.

'Big promotion, you see…' He explains, embarrassed with a hand at his neck.

'A congratulations is in order then?'

I think Sarah cracks a wise joke at her husband's expense and after a few more (thousand) photos, Serena bids them goodbye and jumps into the backseat of Carlisle's flashy car. Her parents remind her to be careful, she tells them she loves them and touching her phone, she agrees to wait for them at the end of the party.

Though I both offered and caused the excitement over the vehicle, Carlisle offers to drive and for ease, I give in. He's talking softly to her, making conversation about her homework before stopping outside her school.

'I'll be right back.' I promise, kissing him hastily on the cheek before unbuckling my seatbelt.

The car got the kid the attention she wanted and her smug smile triples when she sees her school friends staring. I take a hold of her hand as I walk her across to the hall, adding to Carlisle's conversation but she interrupts me mid-babble.

'Why did you do that?'

'Do what?' I ask, confused.

'You kissed Carlisle?'

Considering she was so excited to tell me about her first kiss the other day, I don't really know how to respond to this apart from blush, hate myself for the over display and remind myself not to do it again.

'Did I kiss him?' I ask, feigning confusion but she's not easily fooled and my voice is unnaturally high.

'On the cheek.' She reminds me. 'Like how Mom kisses Dad…'

'Oh.'

'Why?' She asks and I clutch at the lump in my throat.

'Manners?' I guess.

'You've never been bothered by manners before?'

'I have.' I fight, dismally. 'It's just different when you're…err… it was nothing, just… habit?'

'You're not going to have a baby are you?'

'What? Serena, of course not! It was-' Oh, Jesus H Christ, I forgot how the simplest of things became unimaginable to a kid. 'No. Nothing like that.'

'Why kiss him then?'

'Why did you kiss your friend the other day?'

She thinks for a moment before shrugging. 'So he would buy me stuff…'

'Well…' I swallow. 'Carlisle owes me rent. I was charging him.'

'Rent?' she repeats, confused and my brain has managed to throw itself into self-destruction since the short walk from car to door.

'I'll explain another time.' I murmur, bending slightly to her height and twirling her hair. 'For now, enjoy yourself. Ring your mom if you need to and don't forget to tell me all about it when I next see you.'

'Thank you.' She whispers, giggling. A few of her friends are calling her over, pointing and eager to talk to her. She leans towards me, sneakily. 'I think they liked the car.'

'I think so, too.'

'Thanks for my hair, too, Esme.'

'It's no problem, Sweet. Have a lovely time.' She hugs me tightly around the waist before running off into the hall, passing teachers on the way and once I'm sure she's safe, I slowly wander back to the heaven that is Doctor Cullen's car.

Surprisingly he's sat in the passenger seat and when I stare at him, waiting for him to change my mind he nods towards the steering wheel.

'Sure?' I ask.

'I _love_ it when you drive.'

'That better not be sarcasm.' I warn him, buckling myself in and arranging the seat and mirrors. He's got a smirk on his mouth, a mischievous one and though I want to know what it means, I also want to stare at him a little longer.

'It's not sarcasm.'

'It's not something worse is it? You're not actually telling me you're in love with your car?'

'No.' He says quietly and I might as well be hearing it as a question it's so unsure. 'But like I said, I do have a bit of a thing for a Mercedes…'

He waits until I've got my eyes on him to wink and it sends such a jolt through me that the burning desire in my chest inflames my core. If he's suggesting sex in his car, there's no way I'm going to be able to drive back. I'm going to be far too busy getting myself off in his seat, one hand around that gearstick.

I blame him wholeheartedly for throwing me off, even when he's quiet and once I've phoned the Walderman's, I land a shaky hand on the head of the gearstick.

'You can do it?'

'Shut up, Cullen.' Or I really am going to dampen these seats I swear. Eurgh for the love of God, he is unbelievable… He chuckles softly, keeping quiet as he watches me force his car into gear using the same manner he did and if he wasn't so respectful, I'd demand him to get his cock out so I could provide a hand job at the same time.

This would be the sort of remark to have him telling me off so I shut my mouth and drive home in silence.

* * *

We do everything quietly once we get in. We eat almost in silence, sharing shy glances and little else. Even when Edward tries to make conversation, there's nothing I can find to say to him which isn't along the lines of 'Leave.'

He tries to study for a bit. In fact he probably succeeds but my head is so wound up all of a sudden that I couldn't give a shit about offering to run him a bath unless I am specifically invited. I don't know for whom it is luckier when he changes his mind.

'You're sure you don't want me to run you a bath? I really don't mind?' I offer for the third time and I think he knows that the raging hormones are so desperate to see him naked right now that I'd give him anything.

'I'll have a shower later…' he says and it's enough of a suggestion to make my pupils dilate.

I unconsciously tighten my legs together. 'What about now?'

'Now?' He asks, feigning innocence. 'I'm not sure. Did you have something in mind?'

My heart is painful in my chest, thudding excitedly as he circles around my seat on the sofa. He stands behind him, furniture coming up his torso while my fingers rest on the pulse at my breasts. My breath is so heavy, hot as well and though I swallow thickly I think he can just tell I'm wound up so completely by the teasing, that I really don't know what I want to do.

He leans over the back of my seat, lips to me ear with his chilling breath pointed down my neck.

'Come to bed?'

I swallow again, thick saliva coming down my throat because I'm not the kind of girl to spit and he knows it. Holy shit is this happening?! Are we about to have sex?!

'Now?' I ask, breathily. He puts his lips to the side of my neck, hushing my violent shudder with a delicate movement of his mouth.

'If you'd like?'

I lower my chin in a stunned nod, not really knowing how to move with my greed to swamp him. He chuckles, kissing my forehead before slinking away behind me so that I'm stranded in the dark panting and very slightly afraid.

The ten minutes I asked for the other week prove to be far too optimistic and though I'm panicked he's going to get bored of waiting, I spend twenty minutes in the bathroom soaking myself in every perfume known to man and shaving the most of my body hair. My actual hair is infuriating. I put it in a plait. In a ponytail. I leave it down. I tie up my fringe before eventually settling for something in-between with the top half worked into a bun leaving the lower curls loose and hanging over my breasts.

Pyjamas might be an option but I have no idea what he's expecting and I don't want to go in their wearing lingerie in case we frighten each other and he's not ready for that. But jeans and a T-shirt seems far too casual. I should've changed my bra. I should've done something about buying better underwear, too.

Is this really happening?!

My twenty minute total adds up slightly when I spend a further three minutes freaking out and the last two, rearranging myself after the freak out. He's sat up in his bed fully dressed when I finally secure my courage and though he's got the television on, he's also reading a book in his palm.

He looks up when I delicately shut the door, smiles playfully and tucks the book gently onto the counter, face down. I'm still freaking out slightly, my hands wringing out my wrist and my chest taking unnecessary breaths.

'Sit with me?' He asks softly, almost frowning but he wipes it away with a quick smile. My feet are heavy as I head to his bed, my throat thick when I stand above him both desperate for his touch and desperately nervous.

He angles his face up, tugging me by the hands to stand in-between his legs, his smile proud but his eyes locked on every one of my features.

'Are you okay?'

I nod, unable to hide how my breasts quite literally moving for him. He weaves a hand from my cheek into the locks of my hair, his other playing with my sweaty hand and not seeming at all bothered by the moisture.

'Nervous…' I admit after a second and I literally have to say it because my knees have started to shake like I'm a teenager and this is my first time. He notices and looks at my stupid unreliable legs before turning those blue sapphires back to me.

'We don't have to…'

'I want to.' I want it so much that my hands are fucking immobilised and even if I wanted to touch him, I wouldn't be able to. He raises an eyebrow again, parting his lips as he asks for permission to touch his mouth to mine.

I know this'll get my brain in gear so I nod, letting my forehead rest against his. I don't know if he's sweeter than usual or more accommodating on account of my unusual behaviour but he softly steals my lips in his and though initially it feels like my knees are going to cave in, I soon manage to remember who the heck I am and what I'm doing.

By the third kiss, I know what I'm doing or so much so that when his kisses me, I fall into stance like a wilted flower. He parts his lips, taking mine carefully and reminding me cautiously to breathe because I can't listen to basic human functions.

To steady myself, I put a hand on his shoulder, my breath still coming out hot, dizzying my brain with the dire need to have him all over. My heart rate is flying. While my neck is exposed for the sweet breath of air, he carefully lowers his lips to my jaw, sniggering slightly when I groan and move my hand from his shoulder up into his hair. He gets the hint and feeling his smile against my throat he lays further wisps of his lips till they're at my collar-bone. I'm leaning so far into him, so desperate for everything that I unexpectedly lose my footing and tumble onto him, pushing both of us into his mattress.

'Sorry, sorry…'

'Shh, Love.' To silence his chuckle, he pulls my lips to his again. The ache bubbles about me, my lips like spreading fire into his mouth as he slips his tongue across mine, brushing the fingers of his right hand down my side till they're at my hips.

My body just about convulses.

'May I?' He chuckles and I assume he means take my shirt off because I'm gripping him so tightly my knuckles are going white. I nod wordlessly but his fingers pass the T-shirt, stopping at the crook of my knee to pull me onto him. I gasp, clawing at his jaw to get closer to his hormones while he moves his hand to rub soothingly at my back.

I'm still shaking.

That doesn't stop my hands though and firstly fisting and then tugging the material, he realises I need him to take his shirt off. He does it in the same manner as he has from the start, pulling it over his back and disregarding of it somewhere else when he refocuses his attention in trying to make me relax again. It's getting ridiculous. I know he can feel my heart beat, I know he can feel me start to sweat and I know I haven't been able to do anything other than breathe loudly but that's not what I want to focus on.

I keep stealing the bravery from his mouth and using it to fuel my own desires, using it to stop me from screaming.

'Take your pants off.'

'Pardon?' He asks, gleefully confused as he sits up. I can't seem to return to my usual arrogance but I suspect that's got to be because it's his first time and I'm assimilating that panic. Though in perfect honesty, I've never seen him so relaxed.

I kiss him quickly, trying to bite back my urgency but I think he can taste it.

'I want you naked.' I demand hastily and before he even has a chance to blink, I'm pulling off my own pants and the underwear with them though he can't see anything from this angle.

'Are you sure?' He asks, gently. He seems almost concerned when he reaches a hand out towards me but I shake it off. 'Do you really want…?'

But I interrupt him by kissing him quickly, the ache almost hurting when he struggles to melt into it as easily as before. He waits for me to nod at him before he slides his spine to the headboard and hooks his thumbs into his bottom halves. He pulls them off beneath the sheet, neatly hidden though I know he's got an erection and when I'm sure he's naked, even if I can't see it, I pull off my shirt and the bra with it.

'You're positive about this, Esme?'

I don't look at his face to see how he's looking at me. I don't know what he's thinking of my tits if they're too small or too big or not perky enough or if he thinks my torso is fat. I need him that's all that matters. Yet, needing him is almost making me hyperventilate as I continue to try to conceal my panting, the ache replaced by another feeling of absence while my head spins.

For the same reason as him, I'm presuming, I wrap the sheet around my lower half and lean up on my knees in the same position we've found ourselves in multiple times. The look of seduction is not so easily readable on his face and rather annoyingly, he's looking like he's about to say something I don't like. His pale complexion seems worried.

Pressing myself up on my knees, close to his hips, I spread above him, my body fragile for him.

'Condom?'

'Esme?' He pleads, eyes closing delicately. 'What's the rush?'

'I want you.' I say quickly, the words thick. He smiles shyly, pulling the sheet up my back slightly before angling his face to me. He's right, I need to slow but I can't. I need it done.

His hands are delicate on my face, moving sweetly into my hair so that the ends are slipping down my shuddering back. I really don't want him to think I'm still ill because I'm not. It's just nerves. I'm ready for sex with him. I've been wanting this for ages.

One hand trickles down my throat, slipping into my hair again as I battle his tongue with mine, breaking down his defences and making him helpless to me. Or that's my intention, in reality I snog him, I feel his tongue coax mine and I shudder harder, whimpering almost though I try to bite the noise away.

'We can stop?' He offers, breathily. Words like droplets of the finest water on my lip.

I shake my head, and angle my posture into him again without touching our skin together. But that's what I need, I need him to touch me. That'll make me relax. He only has to touch me.

'I'm ready, Carlisle.' I wheeze, my legs and my heart throbbing as I tighten my hands desperately into his hair.

'Are you _sure_?'

'Get on with it.' I demand hastily and I've had to close my eyes because there's so many things happening and I don't want to pass out.

'Would you be opposed to foreplay?' He murmurs, kissing along my jaw in order to prolong the moment. I shake my head, my heart still beating, my tits underneath him and he hasn't paid them the slightest bit of attention.

Not that it matters. I don't want him to touch them. I want him to fuck me and get it over with. I need it to be over.

I don't know where his hand was going anyway but I grab it with my damp palm and pull it till he's touching my inner thigh. His hips lunge uncomfortable and as he groans he has to settle himself down again.

'Touch me.' I command him because I know that'll satisfy him. Once I do that, he'll stop. He won't be interested.

'Love?'

'Please.' I say, my voice overcome with the unbearable sounds of my panicked breathing. I sound like I'm suffocating and my whole body is shaking uncontrollably. My heart is not beating any more, there's no beat about it. It's like a continuous movement, throbbing uncontrollably as I feel my own control slip through my overheated skin.

His thumb brushes along my thigh, accidentally it would seem but the movement's enough and I leap away from him, throwing the back of my hand to my mouth to control the sobs.

'Stop! Stop! You've got to stop. Please. Don't touch me.' I ball the sheet up around me, hiding my nudity as unexpected tears roll down my face.

'Esme?' He asks softly and though he looks distraught. I know it's _for_ me not because of me.

For some stupid reason, I continue to try and take a hold of myself but it's easier said than done when I'm crying behind my hand while opposite the one man who I genuinely wanted to have sex with.

'I'm so sorry.' I choke out, taking controllable breaths. He waits patiently, trying to offer anything he can in comfort. 'I've ruined everything. I'm so, _so_ sorry.'

'You haven't ruined anything.' He says sternly and he moves from the middle of his bed to the side and reaches a hand out towards me. I keep the sheet wrapped tightly around every inch of my skin when I lie next him and even when he lies down around me, I feel him grab another blanket to put between us in order to make me feel better. It makes me cry harder yet all the while he stays perfectly still, his hand folded between mine as he tries his best to comfort me without intruding.

The reason makes itself known after about ten minutes of me continuing to shake followed by the phrase: 'I don't want to go back.'

I'm lucky that he waits for me to be able to breathe before commenting upon it. He sits out my sudden outburst, running a hand up my arm in a comforting manner and keeping his mouth shut while he listens for any other telling signs.

'Hold me?'

'Are you sure?' He asks and this time he waits for official vocal confirmation before sliding against my sheeted back and putting an arm around my stomach, against the duvet.

'I'm so sorry.' I continue to say, miserably wiping away the tears as I let his warmth make me better.

'Don't be. I shouldn't have rushed you into this…'

'But I want it.' Ignoring all the stupid things I was feeling and thinking, I do really want him still but I'm now doubly afraid of my unexpected psycho moment.

'Esme, you don't have to go back. You _really_ don't. If you wanted to take the next fourteen days off and send an email, it can be done. No questions asked.'

'I have a reputation to try and protect. There's no point applying for a job when I know my current one will tear me down in an instant.'

'They don't have anything on you.' He promises, a hand detangling the knots of my hair. 'Esme, I'm not going to let anyone dare harm you.'

'You can't promise that…' I mutter, swatting my face.

'I just did.' He says, shrugging slightly. I hesitate in his arms, needing to see his face but worried I won't like the expression.

'Carlisle?' I do turn and I regret it for reasons that don't make sense. He's facing me, a supportive smile delicate on his lip as he watches me. They're all subtle features. I feel like I want to cry again, especially when he traces my cheeks softly and kisses the tip of my nose. 'Did you mean it when you said you'd never ask me anything?'

'I said I'd never ask you _of_ anything.' He corrects with half a smile. 'I meant that I'd never expect anything from you…'

'Okay…'

'Is there a reason?' He asks softly.

'No…'

'I thought we were done with lying to each other?' He teases, a sweet smile playful when he nuzzles my nose. It makes a minute gasp slip off my tongue.

'What if I liked you, Carlisle?'

'Pardon?' He almost looks like he wants to sit up but that would put us at different heights and makes little sense when I can't face him. I suck in a vulnerable breath and lower my eyes to where I can see his peck moving with every heartbeat.

'What if I _really_ liked you? What if I didn't want to have separate rooms? What if-'

'Esme… Sweet, it's been a long day?'

'I want to fix this. I don't want to seem like this random nut-job? I want to… talk to you? For you to know me, too?' Admittedly, this would be a far nicer sentence if I wasn't looking such a state but he seems flattered by the offer and tightens an arm around me.

'You haven't done anything to us. If you told me _you_ believed in no sex before marriage, it wouldn't change anything. The only thing you could have ever done is make us better…' Though he talks quietly, it doesn't dampen the meaning any less and even when it should be wildly inappropriate, kissing his mouth is the kind of heaven that settles my return into longing. It makes my stomach flip, my legs feel unable to stand but not in a way that's going to push me into a panic attack. Unlike a moment ago.

'As for getting to know you…' He inhales, resettling his shoulder with his blue eyes up at me. 'There is nothing I'd like more.'

'Really?' I ask, needing him to be telling the truth. He nods, seriously. 'Then ask me something?'

'What like?'

'The thing you want to know the most.' I say, deliberately making sure I hold his gaze because I don't want him to constantly feel like he has to pander to me just because I'm prone to water works.

He pulls himself up to sit against the headboard, a hand in his hair with the sheet draped against his stomach. He thinks for a moment, not because he doesn't know what to ask but because he wants to word it correctly. That's near on impossible in itself.

'The other day you called your ex a dickhead?'

'You want to know about _Charles_?' I gasp, surprised once more. I don't think I could've ever imagined him saying that and the thought makes me feel cold. He tries to play off his curiosity with a shrug but he's watching me thoughtfully, wondering.

'Is this a bad subject?' He asks.

I shake my head, numbed almost before _really_ shaking my head.

'We can leave if you'd rather? I'm sorry, I was just…'

'What have I said about him?' I ask nervously. He half shrugs again, staring at his hand before turning that same squint towards me.

'I know he was your last boyfriend.'

'He was my _only_ boyfriend.' I correct, slightly sourly.

'That you knew him for a while? He knew your brothers?'

'I told you that?' I ask. He shakes his head, a little shy.

'Not the last bit. I kind of picked that up from small excerpts from your phone calls over the years.'

'Oh.'

'But that's it?'

'Why?' I ask quietly.

'Why do I want to know about him?' He guesses. I nod, feeling bad for wondering it but also still reluctant to completely dive in at the deep end. 'You've never called him a dickhead before. It made me wonder...?'

I pull myself up too, a hand on my mouth for a moment trying to see if I can worm my way out of it. Talking is overrated I decide. _So_ overrated. I don't like talking. I prefer listening.

'He was the gardener, still is I reckon. He was in-between Daniel and Richard's age so they used to hang out a lot. His dad liked my family and he started working for us the moment he finished school.'

'And that's how you met?' He assumes.

'Not really.' I fiddle a little more with my fingernails, avoiding looking at him properly. 'I knew him from the boys.'

'What was he like?' He murmurs and it's like telling someone their favourite actor is dead.

'Handsome.'

He takes a careful bite of his lip, cringing at the unexpected praise.

'Charming.' I add. He looks away.

'Classic.'

'Classic?' He repeats.

'Think of a good ol' fashioned 1960s husband. You picturing it?'

'Yes.' But judging by the reservation in his tone, I know he's not imagining it well enough.

'Maybe not 1960s, maybe even earlier. How about 1940s?'

'Pre-war?' He asks.

'Pre-war attitude with the desperation of the mid-war.'

'Oh.' He responds, lightly. He's trying to say something, I can see it in the way his words hesitate out his mouth and he catches them before he can go too far. 'So he was a part of your family?'

'Yes.'

He nods again. He's trying to stay silent. Trying not to be curious and I can't bear to have him either ignorant or not ignorant. I want him to be satisfied, I want him to be content. I just don't want him to know.

'How old were you when you met him?'

'I was eight.' I say quickly. 'But initially it was-. Well I don't know if you'd call it innocent but it wasn't sinful either. If anyone did the chasing, it was me.'

'You liked him?'

'I wasn't really interested until I realised how much my mother loved him. That's when I liked him too. By eleven I was constantly trying to grab his attention. By twelve I had it.'

He shivers. 'You forget how young you are at the time but now. Eleven is so…delicate.'

'Mmm.'

'And he was older?' He remembers, waiting for my confirmation.

'Yep.'

'We can stop?' He murmurs, aware of my bluntness and doing the best thing he can think to make this easier. It makes the guilt seep in. I shake my head and reach across for his hand, playing with the delicate lines in his palm and watching them.

'People loved him. Absolutely adored him, especially my mother. Things weren't right from the start… as you may have been able to guess with the thirteen year old having sex. There were complications and he… changed. Well, no. He didn't change. I did and then I changed back and then it fucked me over.'

He doesn't say it but I know he's confused because I can feel myself talk too fast.

'He's a traditionalist?' And I hate myself for almost defending him.

'A 1940s traditionalist?' Carlisle asks and his interest is deep but his apprehension is clear. I roll my eyes at myself, biting my lip to try again.

'He wanted marriage the moment we met. I was eight. At twelve he vowed to marry me. All fun and games according to my Mother. Esme's little crush and by thirteen… he couldn't necessarily wait.'

'Remind how old he was?'

'Twenty.'

'And he just decided you were… _old enough_?'

I shake my head. 'He'd decided a year before but at that point he was satisfied by other-. Are you okay?'

'Mm.'

'You're looking pissed off?'

'I _am_ pissed off.' He says softly and it's such a weird combination to have him so furious and still so gentle with me that I'm not worried about the effects of squeezing his hand.

'Anyway. Things sped along. My father hated him and my mother adored him and soon enough we were causing trouble in every possible vicinity. He stole a car from Henry. Money from Richard and introduced Daniel to the joys that cocaine could bring. But they're okay now. They don't blame him.'

'Don't?' He repeats.

'He's still the family gardener for fuck sake.' I laugh though I shouldn't and pull my hair back. 'Everything was on his terms. Everything from outside to inside the relationship and when he realised I wanted to move, he asked my mother for my hand in marriage. She agreed, I ran and she's hated my guts ever since.'

'So you didn't just leave for university?'

'No, I stayed with my cousin for a year in Wisconsin. He discovered where I was living so I ran again. He knows where I am, he knows I won't go back and that's where we are.'

'So you were engaged, _too_?'

'Not in my eyes.'

He's staring at me in a way that I can't understand. I think it's probably heart shattering in his world. It proves he knows fuck all about me. It proves how much I like staying hidden.

'Can I ask something?' He murmurs, still gentle as he faces towards me. Under the duvet he's crossed his foot over the other and bearing in mind he's on a foreign side of the bed, I can't understand what he must be thinking. Hence why I'm nervous to respond.

'Yes.'

'I feel like you're giving me a report. Like this is a story belonging to someone else, like it's all a really horrible dream that no one wants to acknowledge…'

'Right?'

'Why did you break up?' He asks and before I have chance to respond, he tilts his face towards me, swallowing. 'Honestly?'

'Honestly?' I ask, suddenly freaked by the seriousness of it all. 'I guess because it started to hurt?' I take a deep inhale and hold my limbs still. 'Everything hurt…' I declare, the sound of my voice even quieter. 'He had a temper… and a high sex drive and they didn't compute.'

He doesn't say anything just looks at me, thoughts trapped in an unnerving parade of questions that we don't want to address.

'I shouldn't have asked for you to bring it up. I'm so sorry…'

'Don't be.' I say. 'Guess you realise why I'm fucking warped, now.'

'You're not warped.' He responds, his tone harder than I expected it to be. 'People are warped. What the fuck is this planet?'

'What are _people_?'

'What _are_ people?' He agrees. 'What the fuck is it with marriage?!'

'Fucking marriage.' I add, throwing a fist to a pillow behind. He watches it before nodding enthusiastically.

'You know what? That's a great idea. Fucking fucks of people fucking up this fucking world.'

He grabs his pillow from behind him, glares at it and in one simple tug, rips the fabric apart so that feathers burst through it. I watch amazed, my eyes enlarge and then I copy.

'Fucking bills. What the fuck are they?!' I agree, struggling to shred the material in my hands. 'For fuck sake!' I whine, laughing at myself with fury. He goes to rip it too but this particular pillow case is thicker than the others so he snags it with his sharp teeth, starts to tear it and passes it over for me to finish.

The sound of ripping fabric has never been so erotic.

'Fuck bills, fuck people, fuck the planet.'

'Fuck stupid shitty scholarships!' I say, shredding another piece so that clouds of further feathers fall about us.

'Fuck money.' He commends, signalling it with a pillowcase.

'Fuck responsibilities. Fuck tiredness. Fuck life, fuck death and fuck my fucking dick you sad little planet.'

'That was well said.' He praises, matching my giggle with a smile of his own.

'Care to add anything else?' I offer, tensing my hands to create strips of material. I'm struggling to find another pillow beneath the mountains of feathers around us but I'm strangely feeling better so I don't give a shit.

'Fuck expectations.' He says, creating a further strip of material to throw about his room. 'Fuck swearing.'

' _Fuck_ swearing!' I agree, jabbing a finger at him, he laughs loudly, his nose scrunching up slightly.

'Fuck diseases. Fuck corruption. Fuck politicians!'

' _Don't_ fuck politicians.' I correct, laughing. He beams back, head thrown back in laughter.

'Don't fuck politicians but fuck most of their policies. Fuck opinions. Fuck emotions. Fuck pillows!'

'Fuck pillows!' I say exposing my chest when I jump up to help rip the one in his hands. More white feathers float around us until it's like the flour incident all over again.

'Fuck bedding!' He yells and I'm literally choking so much on my own laughter, I don't give a fuck that I'm completed naked. Not that it can be seen in this mess. He grabs a corner of the duvet and shreds as much as he can, ripping fabric furiously as he starts from one end and me at another.

He's red in his cheeks from his expelling of anger, I am too and while he's making me die with laughter I kick a few of the feathers at him.

'Fuck feathers!' I giggle, attacking him several more times with the onslaught of softness. He gives me a warning look, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

'You really don't want to do that.'

'Bite me.' I challenge him.

With a grin, he lunges towards me, more white billowing about us as we just about cry with laughter, loud, selfish and unashamed.

The door is thrown open.

'What the fuck is going on?!' Edward yells and opening his sight to the horror in front of him, he throws his hand to his eyes and yells louder. 'For fuck sake!'

Realising the problem with bedding quicker than I do, Carlisle moves immediately to shield my nudity with his own. It's stupid but sweet and I can't give time to be humiliated because I'm still laughing.

'If you could close the door, Edward?' Carlisle says, clearing his throat, his cheeks pink and his shoulder still rolling with mirth. I grin, looping my arms around his neck, pressing myself into him more because we're still enjoying the other's laughter.

Edward looks disturbed. He's trying to swear but he's without words or sounds and just gawps in disgust.

'Door, Edward!' Carlisle repeats and I'm laughing so hard again I'm burying my head into his shoulder. The door slams shut, Edward still cursing before we get the accused:

'You're both fucking crazy.'

Carlisle reaches a hand behind him, delicately scratching my scalp as our laughter slows into breathy giggles, amused hums and then blissful quiet.

'We have a problem…' He murmurs, tilting his face back to me. I loosen one of my arms from around his neck and let it stroke his chest, his heart beating against it as he appreciates my movements. Our skin-to-skin contact.

'Which is?'

'This, my love, is one hell of a fucking mess.'

He laughs again, his grin eroding up our earlier fury and while he's laughing at ourselves, I take the chance to take his lips and claim them as the only Elysium I will ever need.


	42. Reasons why there's a 'me' in team

_**Hi all,**_

 _ **Thank you for your lovely reviews and persitence. I know this is a rather long story but I'm hoping it's still enjoyable to you guys!**_

 _ **It's been pretty insane in England for the last few weeks and so I just wanted to make a little point (even if this is out of date by then) to thank people for their generoisty in spending time with my random little sections and further more I'm incredibly grateful, thankful and appreciative for all the kind messages people have shared worldwide. It makes me believe in hope more than I ever thought possible.**_

 _ **Spread love! Thank you all dearly!  
**_

* * *

The addiction of his tenderness sears my lips like heaven to a sinner.

He's surprised by the sudden return to my usual self. I think I am too but having my mouth on his is almost like the perfect reminder how much I adore just being with him and the safety I feel within it. He's sweet and kisses me back innocently at first, surprised when I weave my hand in his thick hair. Pulling him to me and angling his face up, he laughs against my mouth while flicking feathers from his hands.

'Love…?'

I drop my mouth to his, grinning into him and stroking his lip with my tongue before brushing it against his. There's a delicate sound from his throat, like a soft hitch, his hand delicate on my cheek as if to offer a gentle reminder to the very thing I know the most.

So I shift away from him, sitting up with the remainder of the bedding covering my waist. Preserving the moment, he waits to face me properly and when he finally does, though he's watching only my eyes, his cheeks are blushing. Without instruction my hands graze the colour, bearing a shy smile.

'Should I be offended you've paid very little attention to my prized possessions?' I tease, leaning above to push out my chest at an angle that'll make them look the perkiest. He closes his eyes, frowning. His playful grin is still eager to kiss me back, especially when I bite my lip but he's trying to stick to his Saintly ideals.

Luckily, he's having trouble.

'In my defence, it's been hard to see anything other than our handiwork.' Proudly holding my gaze, he lifts a handful of feathers to my mouth and grins when I blow them onto his chest.

'I'm on display now?' I remind him, taking the end of one small feather and bringing it down my cleavage to my naval. It's a 180 degree spin from forty minutes ago but feels weirdly... natural. It doesn't matter if I'm being serious or not, we're having fun. I _trust_ him. He shakes his head thoughtfully, sighing when he spots the raise my flesh.

'I'm _trying_ to be a gentleman.' He says when I've come closer, taking his lips and breathing life into them.

'You're trying too hard.'

How pathetic am I getting in claiming his attention? Leaning on my hands to let my chest jiggle. Nevertheless, he laughs and drops his eyes not to my chest but his crotch with a grimace, which admittedly is not what you'd expect when initiating a _good-time_. I didn't get a chance to look at him with my three minute meltdown but now... the idea is rather thrilling.

'Perhaps, I'm not trying hard enough.' He murmurs, and I look to see where he's stiff against his stomach, against his naval. He's not that much different looking in the light except maybe blonder, thicker and one hell of a sizeable feast.

'I've got an idea.' I whisper, nipping his lip when he kisses me back and having my tongue tease him till he makes music.

'I'm in.' He says, breathing heavily when I push my chest into his. I love how gracious it makes him, his hands fidgeting on my side because he wants to touch me but he can't bear to.

'You don't know what it is yet?' I warn, kissing his jaw. 'I was about to say let's _not_ have sex.'

He groans throatily when I tease his lower abdomen, so close to where he's desperate to be held and yet I deliberately avoid that area. Meaning he nearly flinches when my hand trails close.

'Great idea.' He pants. 'Anything you want…'

'Hmm, I might hold you to that.' I say, working his mouth open and swallowing his air.

'I'm praying on it.'

'However…' I begin, pushing my waves out the way to show off my chest. I know I've got his attention because he fights not to look at them, swallowing his Adam's apple thickly. 'We _could_ reach an arrangement?'

'Deal.'

'We haven't decided on it yet, Carlisle.'

He laughs, waiting to be sure before kissing me enthusiastically. He carefully weaves his hand into my hair in a manner which is making me ache for him again, listening out for any protestations and being ever so patient. Yet I couldn't feel more graciously decided.

'What if we took part in…' I lower my lips to his left ear, mouth the words and smile when he shivers, head thrown back in longing.

'Are you sure?'

'Mmm.' I confirm, kissing under his ear. He shudders, pulling himself around to look at my face.

'Promise me you're sure about this?'

'Carlisle, I'm certain. Completely certain... there's no one I'd like more...'

'Reckon I like _you_ more,' he chuckles, kissing me back sweetly, his hands soft along my sides. 'The moment you're uncomfortable, just say.'

I nuzzle his nose.

'Esme?' He's determined to receive trust in my words and not just my actions. So I promise him again.

'I wonder how many time I can get you to say my name in one sitting.' I taunt, my plump lips coming down his neck and up again until he's stuttering.

'My love, if you need me to sing it in very language I'll do so…' He kisses me a few more times, refusing to let my lips go until I press a delicate hand into his chest. His hand clenches as I put my lips to his neck, my breasts to his skin, breathing hard with him. 'Can I?'

'I'm surprised you didn't get the hint earlier Doctor Cullen.'

He groans when I push into him, delicately holding me above because the risk of me touching him so intimately is too great. I manage to kiss his neck twice but the heaven of his dark mouth calls me and before long, our tongues are sliding against each other, my skin pressing like silk into his. As I have him squirming, I push his arms above his head and slide my palms up his sides, making him tense. When he suddenly grasps my wrists and uses his hip to nudge me under him. Jesus Christ, that's lush.

His first instinct is to ensure the movement has had a positive reaction, such as my slight whine in the affirmative and once he's put at ease, he relaxes.

'Carlisle!' How adorably unexpected...

'I didn't think you'd expect that.' He grins, kissing me from above and doing his best to stop his erection from touching me. No matter how hard I'm making it for him. 'Close your eyes?'

'No.' I fight, grinning.

He kisses just under my mouth, the corner of my lips, nearing my neck but not touching my skin properly until I'm fighting the urge to just connect him into me and make him shatter a billion times over.

'Miss Platt…'

'Kiss me.'

'Close your eyes.' He insists, sliding his nose down the side of mine, his lower lip close by and his laughter flowing onto my tongue like the sweetest poison. I go to sneakily steal a kiss but he's quicker than he looks and bites the edge of my mouth. I whine desperately.

'You're not playing fair!' I complain, pushing my chest up. He laughs, kissing the edge of my top lip this time, his laughter brushing down my hardened nipples.

'I think you'll find it's _you_ not playing fair.'

'Lies.'

'Miss Platt, I am the one with fragile stamina and the erection on display. You cannot win this one.'

'Maybe if you feel how _wet_ I am?' I beg, eyes lidded, moist tongue on display. He bites his lip, closing his eyes as he tries to control himself. His shoulders roll and he shakes his head, grinning.

'You're so mischievous.'

'Touch me if you don't believe me…?'

'That wasn't a part of the deal.' He reminds me. '' _Self_ ' means solo…'

He comes close enough that I think he's forgotten himself so I go to kiss him again. Not only does he refuse my desperate mouth, leaving it hungry and pouting, but he also strokes the containment of my wrists with one finger like a playful tease. It makes my heart skip.

My body involuntarily leans into him.

'Please close your eyes?'

'There's no point.' I complain loudly, doing as he asks. 'For all _you_ know, I'm on the edge of an orgasm?'

'That makes two of us, then.' He murmurs, kissing under my jaw in a way that's making my skin itch.

'Tell me when I can open them?' I beg, and suddenly his hot presence, and more fucking feathers, are hovering on me again, my hands being fiddled with and… _handcuffed_. Urgh, kinky.

'You can open.'

I open them wearily, ready to bring my hands down when I realise he hasn't just tied them together, he's locked me to the bed. The fucking bed. Fuck, that's hot.

'You devil!' Super sexy, angelic, fallen devil that is.

Like usual he just grins at me, kissing me properly on my starved mouth as a reward, tongue slick along mine and making me breathe harder without losing the sweetness of oxygen. 'You _had_ to choose a position which makes them look the worst!'

To explain myself, I push up my chest.

'You're perfect.'

'Nobody's perfect.' I correct him, sticking my tongue out.

'But you are. Utterly perfect _to me_...' He murmurs, kissing me again in the most romantic way that my heart actually freaking swoons for him, my legs turning numb when I pull him to me. Urgh, I need friction so bloody bad. 'But to return to the path of conversation?'

He holds the side of my neck when he kisses me a second time, balanced along my glands as I try to take in his posture as far as he will go.

'May I?' He asks sweetly and because my chest is already pushing into his hands, and has been for as long as I've been controlling it, I nod emphatically.

Cullen is a panty teaser and with less than a smirk and a pair of hands, I can feel the moisture gather about my legs.

He's painfully slow, watching me eye how my breaths make my chest move. He licks my bottom lip, he leans into me without letting his erection touch me, having me squirm as both index fingers travel down. He's done fuck all and already the itch on my skin has travelled to my nether regions.

'Are you okay?'

'Fucking _grand_ , Cullen. Just… just touch me?' I try and soften my tone from sassy to needy in hopes it'll persuade him but he's abruptly upped his hormone restraint training and lets the slight rough edges of his fingerprints be enough of a tease along my flesh.

'I _am_ touching you.'

'Harder.' I whine for the first time in my freaking life. 'Urgh, please. You've got to be harder?'

His fingertips are still gentle on the balcony of my breasts, not even close to the areola yet and already I'm squirming for him.

'I love this.' He whispers, sincerely. 'I love that _this_ turns you on. _Me_ touching you…'

'Babe, please.' I gasp when he almost catches one of my sensitive nipples. Now is not the time for pleasured whispers. Now is the time for him to pinch my skin so sweetly that I let the pulse take over. 'Please?'

'How much do you like to beg?' He teases, mouth ghosting over mine. I work my movements into his tongue, landing on his lip and letting the vibrations of my whines pass from me to him. He shudders as I try to move my reigns, raising an eyebrow at me.

Not that I feel it's fair to tell him at this moment in time but begging has quickly become my greatest turn on. Top of my list with Cullen enforcing it.

'Not trying to escape, are we?'

'Cullen?!'

Urgh, if I don't get friction soon I swear to God I'm just going to end up becoming a soaked vagina with legs. Both his fingers circle everywhere but the place I desire it the most, and this is just from up top. I'm throbbing all over for him. My breath, my heart, my clit...

'Straight to last names, huh?'

'Carlisle?' Since when did his name become dirty talk? Fucking, yum. ' _Please_.'

'Password?' He taunts, mouth touching mine as he speaks, I try to catch him but he's playing hard to get and I'm so blissfully frustrated that I'm obsessed with him.

'Well it's not _please_ , is it?!'

'No.' He replies mischievously, grinning. 'It's not.'

'I don't know, blow-job?!'

'Why is that always your go to?' He asks, raising an eyebrow.

'Babe, please. I'll do anything. I'll suck you off if that's what you need?'

Who's thinking suck when all I've got on my mind is a series of very bad F-words with the added C-word for good measure?

'She _has_ got a dirty mouth?' He plays, kissing me deeply again and I'm so contorted with a need for pleasure that even this has moisture seeping between my legs.

'Give me what _I_ want and I'll give you what _you_ want?' I suggest, arching my back. He chuckles, his breath sweet on my lips.

'Nice try, Beautiful. Password?'

'Give me a hint?' My skin is crawling for him, he's literally been so close to touching them and every time, averts his course in the last second. His thumb circling and making my skin tingle.

'That wouldn't be strictly fair though, would it?'

I gasp again, biting my lip harder before frustratingly trying to push my chest to him. He moves his hand away barely in time.

' _Fuck_.'

Simultaneously, the overdue pleasure of his tongue seduces mine and after so long of his fingertips playing, he lets his knuckles rub over my hardened nipples on both breasts. It would seem I'm louder than I mind to be because he has to remind me to be quiet, his thumb pressing into my buttons as I liquidate beneath.

'Is this okay?' He murmurs, kissing me back again and again until my knees are shaking. I rattle my wrists at him.

'Keep going.'

'Harder?' He guesses. I nod greedily, biting on my lip when he takes one hand away to untie my hands. The relief around my wrist is amazing but while he's thumbing my nipples, I slide my hands over his and encourage him to grope at the skin. His hips almost buck, his erection throbbing at his stomach when I swallow down the gasps from his lips.

'Holy-' he murmurs, shyly frowning. My tongue dances with his again, hands squeezing his to my breasts so that we both shudder.

I continue kissing him, sucking on his lip, before indicating he should move. He's reluctant but does as he's told, throwing himself to the leather headboard and panting when I follow him. Pushing his spine closer to the broken window, more feathers billow up past us with the chill breeze sliding coolly over our heated and salacious skin. I sit comfortably at his thighs where's it's safest to do so with his pulsing cock between us. An area which isn't going to let his arousal push into me, no matter how much I want it too, and where I can't slip onto him.

'You okay?' I ask him weakly, kissing his lips a thousand times over because I need it uncontrollably. His hips shift uncomfortably but he nods, an arm steading my spine while he reaches down between us to take a hold of himself with the other. When he gasps, soundless apart from his breath, I work my lips from round his jaw, under his ear and at the side of his neck, my clit beating with jealousy.

He's shy at first but the moment he feels my wet tongue lick and nip at him, he shoulders lower, grasping himself properly as he rubs the head of his dick and then the whole thing. I don't know what I was thinking. Seeing him touch himself is the biggest turn on to have while being infuriatingly irritated. Every sound he makes, though for my benefit, isn't _from_ me and it's driving me insane as I fight not to grind against him.

I can't grind against him. I do and we'll be having sex.

His right hand returns to pinch deliciously at my breast, thumbing the nipple, making me shudder while he strokes his shaft, elongating it and then making himself gasp. It's making my mouth water again and so I use that to our advantage when I bite at his neck, soothing my marks with the very stuff he's the cause of.

'I'm really not going to last.' He chokes, thrusting up into his grip, hand perfectly moulded to cup himself and moaning when I find a particular sweet spot at his neck. I lick it again trying not to pierce its perfection because I want to watch him knead himself to a high point without the distraction of pain. I need to see his first thought as he achieves his high. He kisses me longingly, his hand teasing my nipple so that I whimper in his ear, tongue slipping over his pulse.

It throbs. It throbs for him and it's so hot, his moans so unbelievably over powering, his fingertips desperate and his fucking hand enough to make me whimper that when I finally touch myself, it should come with no surprise.

He keeps throwing his head back, blonde locks sticking to his damp forehead when he fidgets desperately while I suck on his throat. Then, with lustful eyes of desire he watches me reach to my wet core. I'm aching, all over aching, desperate for all of it at once when I slip a middle finger into myself.

We both moan. Me selfishly and him less so as he tries to up keep snogging me as well but there's so many modes of pleasure, all of them ridiculously intense.

'Keep going.' He begs me, tasting the whimpers of my tongue as I tease myself for him, coating my hand in my hot juices and doing as he did but rubbing my swollen clit. The bitter breathlessness of pleasure thickens through my veins, my body rocking on my eager digits as I finger the jewel of my slit.

'I'm close.' I tell him, biting into his neck as the sensation starts to build and steep and my head is going crazy and my tongue is salivating and the only thing I can see are fucking feathers and his hand wrapped tightly around his member and Jesus, he's fucking masturbating to me and, and…

' _Fuck_.' He hisses, capturing my lips and he rubs himself quickly towards me, hips bucking and groaning so deeply that if it's possible, I get even wetter. 'Fuck, I'm coming….'

My clit is throbbing, my jaw wedged open as I cry for further pleasure, fingers moving when his hot seed spills onto my tits. He whines, head thrown back as he finishes off, but at his cry, I'm tipped over the edge and with him pinching my nipple too, ecstasy washes over my body so violently that I'm sure Edward is going to kill us.

I vocalise the whole feeling, my lips sore where I've bitten into them so hard and my body shuddering after such a fucking build up, expelling the last of our energy into my hand while Carlisle pants his return to heaven.

'Fuck.' He repeats, collapsing in exhaustion, unable to lift his head up.

I groan, wanting to do the same thing when he pulls me onto him, saving the bed somewhat from our entertainments. We both breathe loudly at each other, sweat damp on our skin while our limbs give in. The ripped bedding surrounding us in such a mass of white that the one thing I see are the feathers but that's only once I nearly choke on them.

We spend twenty minutes getting our breath back at which point I'm so hardened with sticky come, I might as well give in now and subject myself to his body indefinitely.

'Fuck.' He echoes again. It makes me chuckle or half chuckle, I'm so fucking exhausted.

'Did you always swear when you come or is that-'

'That's _just_ you.' He intrudes, matching my chuckle with a murmur of his own. 'There's no better sound to sum up the extent of what you put me through. So... fuck will have to do.'

'So we're a good team then?' I suggest, still hugged against him and most probably glued with his sperm. Or semen- whatever he wants to call it.

'We are _fucking_ exquisite.'

'I think I like the swearing. Tie that with the stubble and all you'll need is a cigarette to complete the sexy bad boy.' I say softly. 'Not that you're not sexy already. I like the swearing and the good-guy combo, too. It's sweet.'

It's more than sweet, it's frickin' glorious.

'Well _you,_ Miss Platt seem to manage to tie sexy, sweet and beautiful all into one.'

'Oh hush, Carlisle.' I tell him, laughing. I hear the content hum in his throat and squeeze myself to him, loving the desperation of his lips at my cheek.

'That was worth the four years of torture. Best shared orgasm ever….' He praises, breathing hard. ' _Only_ shared orgasm.' He corrects laughing, I laugh too.

'Snap.'

'Well, thank you.' He murmurs pouting ever so slightly that it gives me an excuse to revel in his arms. Realistically, I have to roll my eyes.

'No, I meant first shared orgasm.' I amend, laughter more breathless what with the effort it takes to force sound out. 'Best one, too though.'

'That was your first?'

'In front of someone, yeah.' I say, breathing heavily. It's expected that I notice him frown.

'You've never…?'

'I told you I've never orgasmed in sex, Carlisle?'

'Yeah but I thought you meant from vaginal stimulation not that…well not after all this time? What about the people you've been with?'

I breathe loudly again, hushing his concern with a soothing pout. 'Remember how hysterical I was a few hours ago?'

He nods.

'That's pretty much how they went down.' Though many was the occasion when I stayed tight lipped, too. 'No one could get out there fast enough.'

'But what about… He was your partner for years? He never even thought about returning the-?'

I shake my head. 'That would've taken away from his glory.'

'Bastard.'

'Carlisle?'

'Mmm?'

'You're sexy when you swear.'

'Thank you?' He murmurs, surprisingly flattered.

'So you need to stop, I'm exhausted, I don't have the energy to do that again.'

He chuckles in my ear, lips pressing against my forehead as he murmurs a few chosen favourites and then eventually, I grab a towel and nod in the direction of the bathroom.

'You not following?' I complain, shaking my head at him.

'Is that wise? What about Edward?'

'Edward walked in on us naked tearing up pillows. He might be pleased to know we're showering.' I kiss him quickly, legs threatening to falter when I stand up. 'Besides, the hot water might knock me out.'

'You're amazing.' He murmurs and wrapping the towel around my back but not necessarily on someone's exploits, I let him follow my stalking into the bathroom.

* * *

He was right, we do shower later but surprisingly manage to help out our planet when I drag him under the water with me. His chuckle is sweet and kissing me on the mouth, he kneads his hands into my shoulders, rubbing away any aches or pains and stopping at my breasts.

'Go on?' I encourage, hands already in my hair with my expensive shampoo when he lets his hand wash over them. I raise an eyebrow and then bite my lip, tensing my body and forcing a fake moan off my tongue as he washes thoroughly. He leaps, watching me in confusion before I snap my mouth closed and grin at him.

'Sorry, I couldn't resist.'

'Me either.' He soothes and he carefully backs me into the corner with his lips on mine.

The water streams hot down our shoulders, soothing me into sleep as I appreciate every second of his soapy hand gliding over his skin. Even when we wash ourselves it's erotically unerotic and I waste as many more minutes as I can in the shower with him. Not even trying to be sexy, just messing about, soaping up my hair in spikes and doing the same for him until laughter is consuming us again.

His chuckle softens, looking towards his feet as he washes out his scalp when something catches my eye.

'Aw shit.'

He turns my way. 'What? What is it?'

On the left side of his neck is a mouth sized bruise, obvious and looking like it's growing larger and darker each second.

'What?' He laughs, confused.

So I stand and shift his head in the glass of the shower cubicle waiting for his to focus on his reflection. It takes a while for him to see it but when he does the smile doesn't drop, I might even hazard an argument to say it _grows_.

'Oh.'

'Not good.' I tell him. 'Really… _Really_ not good.'

He gently strokes the mark with a fingertip, looking proudly upon it like it's a badge of honour as he tests out the tenderness of the skin. He seems amused.

Love bites are fucking tacky- what the fuck have I done?! Though for something tacky, I'm weirdly satisfied by the claim of me surrounding his- what the fuck am I saying?! I've given him a love bite. Fuck.

'Oh well.' He says grinning, looking at me with tired but still endearing eyes.

'Oh well?!' I repeat. 'Oh well?! This is not _oh-well_ , this is bad! This is _so_ bad. They're going to find out and Alice is going to kill me!'

I don't realise I'm freaking until he steadies my shoulders.

'Esme, Sweet. It's fine. They won't -oh.'

' _Oh_?' I repeat again, panicking.

He chuckles and uses one finger to turn my jaw to the side. 'You have one, too.'

'What?!' I half push him out of the way of the mirror and try to angle my head to see such an offending shape. 'When the fuck did that happen?!'

Why the fuck does it have to be kinda hot, too?! From behind he laughs gently before shrugging. The red mark has just come into view, several of them in fact from my jaw to the top of my throat and even lower like a sash heading towards the best part of my chest. Perhaps it was a blessing we didn't move onto oral. Godforbid those marks... I'd be walking outta here a different woman.

Correction; I wouldn't be walking. And sure as hell, he wouldn't be either.

What the fuck am I saying? A fricking _hickey_?!

'Shiiiiiit!'

'It's nothing that a scarf can't fix.' He murmurs, reaching out for my hand to pull me gently to his chest. He kisses my lips, settling the worry for a second before I remember he's got to work with the public tomorrow. What about if Edward notices, too?! I am so screwed.

'A scarf? A scarf in the _spring_ time?! I don't think so!'

He raises an eyebrow and strokes my cheek. 'Unless we just apply make-up every day?'

Ridiculous. Alice would know…it's _Alice_. Fuck she is going to rip my fucking face off, she's going to _completely_ -

'You're incredibly hot when you're glaring…'

I turn to him, frowning, forcing fear because it's not naturally coming and it should be. I should be fucking terrified. Why the fuck am I not freaking out?! Now I'm smiling, what is wrong with me?!

'And grinning.' He adds, smirking, taking my lips again and letting the water run over the both of us.

It literally makes me forget every ounce of concern at hand.

'You're not bad yourself… though I personally prefer your come face.' I scrunch up my expression and make a gruff kinda grunt as I turn to impersonating him ' _Oh Esme, I'm coming on account of our jointed souls.'_

He throws his head back, laughing and encircling an arm around me to pull me closer under the jet of water, still giggling and yet blushing.

'Is this opposed to yours?' He mocks, his grin charming as he licks my lip. ' _Uh, Carlisle? Uh, uh, mm, uh-huh. Yeah_.'

'And that's just from touching my breasts.' I commend him, beaming.

'I _love_ your breasts.'

Here's to hoping he loves them more than his car...

'See, I think I'd prefer to do a magic trick with your cock.'

'A magic trick?' He repeats, laughing absurdly.

'Sure. You'd see it and then you won't.' In case he's confused I point my crotch and wink at him, enjoying his laughter as I hop out the water. We laugh for a while, me wringing out my hair knowing that he's staring at me.

'Es?' He sounds weirdly stern which breaks away from our sudden display of over affection so I doubt it a little and simply enjoy our moment but he continues. 'Hon- Your ass?!'

Well shit.

'My?' I turn slightly to see the exposure beneath my plump cheek. It's all yellowish and slightly sore looking but far better than it was. I don't think it's a good enough excuse for him. 'It's old? It was from the other week?'

'What-'

'My boss…' I say quietly. 'I told you. Remember? I said that-'

He stumbles back, his feet losing his footing before he grips onto the wall to secure himself. His looks tense, utterly conflicted and almost- _almost_ disgusted.

'Carlisle?'

' _That's_ what he did?!'

'Don't think like that.' And I suddenly grab a hold of his shoulders to look at him in the face. 'Please. Please don't ruin this?'

' _Me_ ruin this?' He repeats astounded but I lock my arms around his neck and desperately try to get him to believe me.

'I didn't mean it like that. You know I didn't but please... Let us have this? Don't let every moment of my happiness be shrouded by that asshole.'

He lifts his head, looking at me guiltily before, with a struggle, slowly nodding his head.

'I'm sorry.' I tell him, tightening closer to his body and kissing his bent forehead.

'Me too.' He murmurs but he makes an effort to swallow down his frustration and kiss me again. 'It's just seeing-'

'Ignore it, Hon. Just for now. _Just_ for tonight.'

He nods again, his lip between his teeth as he fights with the words on his mouth, eager to say them, to ease his torture but he keeps quiet. So I shut off the water and grab the towel to dry off the last damp areas of our body.

'Promise me you won't go back?'

'Drop it?' I beg him.

'Just promise me. Ignore the money or the responsibility. Please. Don't go back.'

'Carlisle.' But when I turn to tell him to shut up I find his jaw is locked tight and he's looking so conflicted that he's far paler than I'd deduce normal. I go to take his hand but it's shaking in mine, his breaths coming out heavy. 'Love?'

His frown softens, deeper breaths being taken into his lungs until he softens under my hands.

'I'm sorry.'

'You're shaking.' I murmur, wrapping a towel around his shoulders.

'I'm angry.' He mutters as if this is the perfect explanation. 'I'm so infuriated.'

'But you're not going to do anything.' He looks up to me, blue eyes widening, sickened. 'If you lower yourself to that-.'

'Lower myself? Look at what he's done to _you_!'

'It's fine, it's healing. That's the end of it.' I say quickly. 'For fuck sake, I've bruised _your_ skin and you're not moaning.'

Or maybe he was but different matters.

'It's _completely_ different.' He swears, emphasising each sound before looking hurt under my stance. 'I hate it when you do that. You try to normalise it all by making it seem like you do the same things. You _don't_. You _never_ have and regardless of what it might look like, you have never failed to give me _exactly_ what I need!'

He's so wound up that for the moment I think he's going to do something really stupid and drive into town but instead he tightens the towel around his waist and storms out of the bathroom like a sulky adolescent. I think he's going to slam the door but he doesn't. He stays standing outside his bedroom with his hand in his wet hair, his face drawn and his eyes tired.

I think I must be looking worse than I feel because I look smaller and he looks pale.

'I'm an asshole.'

'No you're not.' I say softly, pulling my hair out of the way to try and prove I'm dead serious. But he sighs and nods his head.

'I am. Every time I just fail to think fairly with you. Everything is so...just so...' he stops himself with another heavy sigh, blue eyes swimming with sincerity as he fights hard to hold my gaze. '… I'm not going to hurt anyone.'

'I know you're not.' I say, truthfully.

'Forgive me?'

'Forgive _me_. I'm the one causing all this…'

He sighs, pulling me towards him, a kiss on my forehead as his heart beats. 'You really underestimate how insane you make me, Esme.'

'Feeling's mutual.' I murmur, combing through his fringe with my fingertips. 'Except when you storm off. Then you just look like a teenager having a tantrum.'

'I _want_ to have a tantrum.' He mutters, displeased but he softens again when I kiss him, leaning one towelled body into the other, falling close to my stance.

'You know what you want more?' I state, brushing his fringe back to keep his eyes on mine. He smirks, shaking his head gently. 'You want _sleep_ …'

'Oh, okay. That _is_ true... We have one small problem, however…'

He breathes in before pushing his bedroom door open with a flat palm and now we're out of it and several feathers have been washed from my sight, I see how horrific everything must have seen to Edward. It's looking horrendous.

'Did we really do that?!'

He nods, smiling tiredly, a hand coming down his face. 'I want to make a terrible suggestion but it's both immature and rather pathetic of me.'

'Which is?'

'Should we just sleep in your bed?' He asks, biting his lip and his eyes softening. I grin, nodding at him before pulling him into my room.

He drops the towel, folding it over a chair before parading his hot-as-hell backside and sliding into the covers, torso on display and a hand out towards me. I watch him as I drop my towel, kicking it away and crawling into the space of his open arms. Tiredly, I tuck my head into his shoulder, my left hand draping over his chest to his hip, my fingertips sliding towards his back.

I don't know who falls asleep first, I just know there's no better space in the world to be.

* * *

I'm tired by the morning and though I feel refreshed and much better than I have in the last few days, I feel like that has less to do with the energy in my bones rather than the _reason_ for the energy. I suspect he must be busy because I don't wake up with my usual company.

Once I'm finished in the bathroom, curled back in my bed, responding to Alice over some news she's sent me to do with the university, there's a tender knock on my door.

'I thought you'd gone to work!' I say guiltily but he just beams wider, his perfect teeth on perfect display with his smile as bright as ever. 'I would've come down if I knew?'

'Not at all.' He says, pushing a cup of coffee to my bedside and offering a quick look to the jumper I'm wearing. 'But I've got to run or I'm going to be late.'

'Well hurry home.'

'I'll have to. We have guests…' He waits for my dramatic eye-roll before grinning.

'I forgot about that.' I confess, biting my lip. 'Damn it. What time is he bringing her round?'

'Six.'

'Six?!' I repeat. 'Eurgh but I don't finish lessons till four! I need to blitz the kitchen. What about the living room? I haven't even thought about-'

'Don't panic, my love.' He reminds me, soft laughter becoming quieter as he steps towards me to kiss my forehead. 'It's just Bella.'

'If Edward's worried, I'm worried.' I mutter, twiddling a piece of my hair from my sight.

'Edward's not worried. He's in _love_.' He strokes a hand under my chin and raises an eyebrow at me, eyes on my neck. 'How are you feeling?'

'Fine?' I answer, returning the eyebrow in case he's referring to the mass of feathers we'll be clearing up later. In which case I'm more than fine. I'm just not satisfied.

'Would you like an excuse for today or…?'

Oh. Work.

'No.' I sigh, shaking my head. 'No, I think I'm just going to blackmail the bastard if he says anything.'

'Sure you're okay?'

'No!' I cry throwing my hand to my head. 'Alas thou fair gentlemen hath yet to prove his excitement!'

'Excitement?' He repeats, laughing.

'Went too far there, didn't I?' I realise. He sniggers, agreeing with me before kissing me so perfectly on the mouth that I have to fight my hands from gripping onto him.

'I'll see you tonight.'

'Hurry home.'

'Always do.' He kisses me once more, nose against mine before pulling himself away.

I jump out the bed, open the bedroom window as wide as I can and lean out of it before he climbs into his car, playing about with the keys before turning on the spot and looking up at me. He doesn't say anything but he grins, saluting with a hand before driving off.

In all honesty I have even less to worry about when I'm through half of my lessons and by lunch, I promise to meet Alice for food. She's over excited to see me which is somewhat creepy and hugs me around the shoulders as though it hasn't been four days. I keep thinking about what Sarah said about judgement, listening to her go on about lessons and making a conscious effort to remember all these facts when she turns to the inevitable.

'So I said to Rose that if she really felt like he was in the wrong that she should tell him. But she put it down to a guy thing.'

'Alice,' I groan, taking a sip of my coffee and biting some cake off my thumb. 'Don't tell me you agreed?'

'I didn't want to upset her.'

'I hate it when you do that.' I murmur, frowning. 'If it's an Emmett thing, it's an _Emmett_ thing. It's not necessarily a guy thing.'

'Oh no?' She asks, her perfect red lippy pouting at me in question.

'No.' I confirm. 'Jasper's not like that?'

'He is if I haven't seen him in a while?' She looks at me waiting for me to laugh which I eventually do.

'Sometimes I wonder if he hasn't got a bit of an addiction. All he talks about sometimes. You know that Jazz told me he doesn't go a day without wanking?'

' _Alice_!' How the hell am I meant to get rid of that image?! Gross. She laughs musically, slapping her hand on the table next to me. 'All I'm saying is that is that if she thinks he's got a problem, she should tell him. It's not her _job_ to have sex with him?'

'It's not that, Es.' She corrects me, waving her spoon. 'It's the fact he was leaving her out.'

'Wait. So she's pissed off because he was wanking… _without_ her?'

'She gets really jealous.' She explains, rolling her green painted eyelids.

'Alright then it's person thing. What's wrong with a bit of self-pleasure?' I ask, brushing my hair out my face and combing through it.

'But doing it hourly is problematic. Besides, You're the one person I was sure would agree with her?'

I unexpectedly blush, my face warming gently as I look at my half eaten cupcake. I had no problem with a do-it-yourself guide. None at all. I'd like to think he would agree with me on that. I'd also like to think he'd want more.

'I don't see the problem?' I say honestly, smiling. Alice shrugs, giggling a little when she thinks back but her big brown eyes fall to my neck and after a few seconds, she's squinting.

'What?' I ask, leaning away from her.

'Your neck?' She says, leaning closer, hand outstretched. My eyes widen and I throw my hand so quickly over it that I audibly slap myself. 'What the heck is that?!'

FUCK.

'It's nothing.'

'That's _not_ nothing!' She guffaws, jaw falling open as she glares at me.

'I did it on the flat-iron. It's nothing. It doesn't matter-'

Here I will offer a thousand Hail-Mary's to all that is good and right when my phone starts to ring.

'It _does_ matter. That's not how you get a-'

'Shh!' I insist, fiddling with the stupid things as it buzzes obnoxiously loudly. She tries to say a few other things but seeing it's an unknown number, I excuse myself from the table to take the call outside.

I let it ring out a little longer, my head hurting, my heart beating and eventually I realise if I don't get it now, it could come at a worse time. I answer it without speaking.

' _Miss Platt?'_

Who the fuck?

'Err. Speaking?' I respond, nervously.

' _Am I speaking to Esme Platt?_ '

'You are.' I confirm, frowning. 'Can I ask whose speaking?'

' _Ah, thank goodness. We have sent you a few emails but I thought it was best to phone you as we need rather an urgent answer? My name is Joy Anderson. I work in the scholarship and bursary office in-_ '

Scholarship?! What the fuck?!'

'Yes?! Sorry, sorry. It's me, I'm here!' I blurt, unable to stop the nervous excitement from bubbling into a bigger vat of nervous excitement. In the corner of my eye, I can see Alice in the window hurriedly phoning someone. She's speaking quickly, urgently and the feeling makes my skin crawl so I ignore it.

She knows. I knew she'd find out. I'm such an idiot.

' _I take it you haven't checked your emails?_ ' She supposes.

'I haven't quite had time, I'm afraid. This week has been so busy and I was taken ill at the start of it and-'

' _Not to worry but like I said, we do need an answer rather urgently hence the phone call?_ '

'Right?' If they dare offer me this fucking scholarship, I will quite literally marry Cullen for the sake of irony.

' _I believe you were informed of the marketing process that applicants are asked to take part-_ '

'Yes.' I say urgently, accidently cutting in because I need information now!

' _Well, we have some rather exciting news. Your piece has been picked up by a third party official. They're very interested in it. So much so that he wants to put it on display over the weekend to see how well it does._ '

'You are kidding?!' HOLY FRICKING FUCK. The woman on the other side of the line, laughs gently.

' _I admit, it's a first for us, too._ ' She laughs again living up to her name as I try and settle my urge to start leaping for unexplainable excitement. ' _Of course for insurance purposes we need your permission-_ '

'YES!' I all but scream at her. 'Yes, absolutely, of course!'

' _Fantastic, that's splendid news. This will really do wonders for your application, Miss Platt I'm sure._ '

'So… so when do I find out if I've got it or not?' Thank God for one part of my brain still thinking. I very nearly just signed off with a joyous scream.

 _'All in good time._ ' She promises. ' _There's a few more bits of official paperwork required before your final piece is submitted to our staff but… if an outside collector has picked it up I suspect it's not presumptuous for me to offer a congratulations._ '

Oh. Oh my. Oh my frickin God is this happening?!

'Can I see it?!' I ask, the pride outweighing that which you might have for your children. Oh my holy shit. Scholarship. A fucking scholarship?! A chance. Art galleries and my own work taking speed- oh my fucking God.

' _Unfortunately not. It's been hired for a private event but you'll have plenty of time to see it.'_

To think I didn't even like it. To think I was sat complaining about it for hours. I'm so freaking excited.

'That's amazing. Really, really amazing!'

' _We'll be in touch shortly, Miss Platt. Many congratulations again!_ ' She hangs up the phone call with a content hum.

It's the middle of the day, I'm stood in the middle of the street in plain view and yet the moment the line goes quiet, I break out in pure freaking joy. I'm losing my shit, so over excited I think I'm going to go nuts as I punch the air like an animated film and scream a little.

I don't give a shit what Alice is worried about some fucking love-bite thing. A freaking scholarship. A scholarship!

'Are you alright?' She asks, panicked when I come skipping in.

'You wouldn't _believe_ what's just happened! Like you have no idea, I'm actually going to shit myself!'

'Please don't? Just tell me what's going on?'

But I grasp her in an excited hug, gripping onto her shoulders as though she might break underneath me. She hugs me back, laughing in confusion before reseating herself.

'Talk to me?!' She begs, giggling.

'They're going to offer me the scholarship! I've got to wait a few weeks but they're going to offer it. It's mine. I got it.'

'Scholarship? Jesus, Esme! That's fantastic!'

'What do I do?!' I squeal at her, unable to think about drinking the coffee or eating the cake because my whole world, all of it in the space of a day has come together. Fucking hell life is great. 'Who do I phone? Who do I tell?! What do I do?!' I babble at her, working my hands in my hair as I jump around a little more.

'Better not phone Carlisle.' She warns, watching me with no emotion on her face. It's rather a random sentence and quiet sudden. Regardless of her irrational rudeness, now she's said it, it's the only thing I want to do.

'You had to kill my good mood?'

'I was only saying.'

'Well…I better be getting to class anyway.' I say awkwardly, strapping my bag on my shoulder and frowning at her. She doesn't move, just continues to watch my response as though I'm some Alien creature.

No judgement, my ass.

'It's for your own good.'

'Whatever, Alice. I've got to go.' I bite my lip as I gather my stuff, watching her with a hard stare unable to say anything because she just has to make everything so complicated.

'I love you.'

'I know you do.' I say sourly, hugging her back but she tightens her arms around me far more desperate than she did earlier but because she's pissed me off, I'm going to do it anyway.

The moment I re-walk the few blocks to class, I've returned to the sudden exasperated elation I had earlier and while she's out of sight and I'm still bouncing about the place, I phone Carlisle. It goes straight to answer phone which is annoying at first but it suddenly makes me far more excited to tell him when he gets home.

* * *

My lessons are much better today with Olivia making a few reminders about tomorrow's seminar and mentioning in passing that 'Italy is a beautiful place'. Things are looking up and so much so that I reckon with the scholarship paying for the art course, if I wanted too, I might be able to fund the statutory course by itself.

After a job of course. I really do need a job. Especially when I've only really got the bar tomorrow… what does it matter?! A WHOLE SCHOLARSHIP!

Excitement doesn't cover it and even when I'm at home, bent on my knees to fix every inconvenience down stairs, I'm still beaming with pride. I read the email six times just to try and make it real but I can't. I just want to scream swear words for the rest of the week until I get that official letter.

I try to settle down enough to make a fair judgement on the state of our house. I even find myself going as far as polishing the books, refolding the washed blanket that hangs of the sofa and making sure the carpet is soft as can be.

The kitchen is harder to work on because I'm still using It and even though it wasn't specified, I have gone all out because if Edward wants this than I guess I owe him. Also if I do what he wants, he'll keep his mouth shut about the feathers that I still need to clear up. My hands are busying themselves in the washing up, my curled hair being held behind me with a loose clip when the door unlocks. My heart almost falls to my feet and with a smile on his cheeks, he calls out:

'I'm home!'

I finish making a hot drink, taking it with me to greet him by the door where he's disregarding of his coat. He's looking confused but takes the cup gratefully, letting the first sip burn his mouth.

'How was your day?' I ask excitedly, prepared to jump him because he's just so beautiful and so sweet and I just want to launch words at him.

'It was good, thank you. I think I've reworked my speech, I might need your help later?'

'Of course. Tell me what you did!'

He frowns, chuckling softly at my enthusiasm and checking his watch. We have time, he's home earlier than expected.

'I did my rounds and then caught up on a few different surgeries. Even got to study a little before coming home.'

'You _are_ lucky.' I commend him.

'I am.' He agrees, smiling his usual charming smile at me before coming towards me to lay a quick peck on my mouth. That ache returns and I very nearly throw myself at him but manage to retrain myself in the last second. 'It smells amazing in here. What did you do?'

'Cleaned.' I say with a shrug.

'You're cooking, too.' He murmurs, looking like he's about to tell me off but he takes one big sniff of food and grins loopy-like. 'I'm starved.'

'You're not after a shower, are you?'

'I am.' He corrects, taking a hold of his cup and drinking over half.

'Brilliant. You can help me with what to wear.'

'Es. It's only Bella?' He tries to say again but I've made my mind up and he's distracted by my face all of a sudden.

'What?'

'You look... dashing?'

'You're meant to say that _after_ the change of outfit.' I say, laughing softly but he shakes his head.

'I'm ashamed I didn't comment upon it first. You look as stunning as ever, Miss Platt.'

'Oh hush!' I mutter though every compliment that leaves his mouth I soak in greedily like air into my lungs.

* * *

I wonder if we're going to freak Edward out what with my insane and unnecessary preparation but I don't really care. I don't know what to expect and judging by the nervous way of him asking, I know it's not just some shitty take-away and games console night. He's looking to impress.

Especially if they're a _thing_.

An actual thing. Is everything exciting me at the moment or am I just going nuts?

'What about this?' I ask Carlisle, wrenching up my pencil skirt and tucking my purple shirt into it. He grins, towel drying his hair as he ignores the mess of his bed and looks through his wardrobe for a better shirt.

'Beautiful.'

'Really?' I ask, wiping another quick layer of make up over my throat even though I don't think it's half as noticeable as Alice made out. 'Do you think I should wear tights?' I ask, pointing out my legs.

'If you'd like?'

'Shit. Heels?' I say, wriggling my toes. Now he really does grin, kissing the top of my head as he wipes some strong cologne on his neck.

'In your own home?' He teases and I stop looking in the mirror to laugh with him.

'He said _dinner_ , Carlisle. And he specifically asked. That means he's serious. As his family you should be supporting him.'

He sniggers, wrapping an arm around my waist and gently kissing down my neck as though it's just a simple act and not the sort of thing to make my bones shiver.

'Um.'

'You were saying?' He whispers, the scent of his soap driving my hands crazy as I try to pull him even closer to me.

'Please don't tempt me. I'm trying to be good.' I say all the while pulling said handsome God towards my flushed skin...

'You're better than good.' He retorts nuzzling my hair.

'No flirting. I mean it, Hon. Alice is already irritating the hell out of me. That reminds me, wear something that'll cover the...' I touch my neck to indicate his and make a guilty expression.

Past Esme really likes to fuck over present Esme because he's naturally hot anyway but seeing those dark pink circles proudly presented along his throat really does make me desperate to jump him. Properly. In one swoop. He's not even wearing underwear, it wouldn't be a problem.

He leans towards me, asking for my mouth as he traces it with the minty laughter.

'Shit, dinner!'

'Es?' He whines but I'm skipping down the stairs quickly, jumping into the kitchen to check everything over and stirring everything twice over. It smells good. A simple soup to start with, a miniature roast with the boys' favourite extras and then something simple for dessert.

He's right, it does smell good.

I leave the radio on while I finish the washing up, sliding around the tiles because of the tights which is problematic considering I'm rushing around anyway.

'What do you think?' He asks, musically and I turn on the spot to see him against the wall. His hair is combed, his features clear and not shrouded by exhaustion as he fits his hands in his jeans pockets to feel nonchalant. He's wearing a thin jumper with a shirt underneath, casual enough that it wouldn't be unusual but also seeming somewhat like he's old enough to have children running about his feet.

'You're beautiful.'

'You stole my line.' He complains, frowning but while he's close by, I pull my tan tights off my legs and pass them to him to put in his pocket or even away. His eyebrows raise.

'What?' I ask with a grin but he shakes his head to dismiss the thought, beaming even wider. 'So we're ready now aren't we?'

'I guess?' He replies frowning.

'No room for distractions?' I murmur, stroking the middle of his jumper.

'And you told _me_ off for flirting.' He mutters, watching me in fascination.

'I have more news.' I say, grinning as widely as possible though I've been trying to conceal it for hours.

'Go on?' He asks, his silk fingertips holding my hand so randomly that I think he must worry that I'm discussing something bad.

'My art piece has been picked up…' I begin, shyly looking away.

'What?!' He demands, the sheer excitement bursting through his voice as he takes a hold of my shoulders to catch me looking at him. 'Really?!'

'I have to wait for a few weeks until the paperwork comes through but… the person I spoke to reckons I've got it.'

'You've got it?' He repeats, still beaming at me but physically unable to put two and two together.

'I've got the scholarship!'

'What?!' He yells.

The cheers burst from him loudly, his hands move quickly from my shoulders to locking around my waist as he sweeps me up in the biggest, most heartfelt hug I think he's ever given me. He spins me around twice, whooping with me and grinning before settling me down carefully on both feet.

'Esme that's amazing! Congratulations!'

Before he can stop himself he grasps my face in his hands and kisses me deeply, his mouth saying more than his words have to as he sends my whole being into overdrive.

'I'm so proud of you.' He whispers, kissing me again but this time we're both a bad influence on each other.

He makes his mouth move for me, alluding all this intensity, my excited heart trying to transfer from my breast to his when I pull him closer, parting my lips and hooking my leg around his ankle. He gasps, sliding his hands to my knees to easily lift me up so that I have to balance my weight into his shoulders, my tongue duelling against his when he backs his hip into the kitchen counter. It gives him a better angle and knotting his hand in my hair, he angles his tongue to work with mine instead of against it. I accidentally moan. His usual mint breath has a bite to it with the new aftershave he's wearing smelling of something like old-spice rather than the usual pine smell but I want it everywhere. I want to rip another set of bedding with him again.

I want him to make love to me.

There's the sound of a key in the lock and jolting into realisation, he pulls away, dropping me carefully to the floor as he tries to smooth the creases on his front. I do the same. Wiping my mouth before rushing forward to wipe the lipstick of his mouth urgently.

He's laughing, his blue eyes bold and spritely as he watches me fuss. He manages to hide my tights in just enough time for Edward to call out.


	43. Reasons why home is where the heart is

_**Thank you for your lovely reviews! I appreciate it so much! Things are progressing ;) Very speedily. Here's another chapter for you all.**_

* * *

'Guys?'

I push Carlisle towards the door and turn to the cooker, making my hands look busy.

'In here, Edward.' He announces, heading through the doorway to greet them both. 'You're looking lovely Bella.'

Not that I'm jealous or anything but I would prefer if he made this comment when I was there to see the sincerity in his face. How lovely? Too lovely? Is this just a comment on if she's looking casual or not or is he _attracted_ \- what the fuck am I saying? He literally came on me, yesterday.

The thought produces a very proud and _very_ smug smirk.

'Thanks, Carlisle. How was work?'

Edward passes them to stand close to me, almost looking shy with his crazy hair… not so crazy? Jesus, is he wearing slacks and a shirt? An actual shirt?! But the same comment is apparently running through his head because he takes one look at me, turns back to Carlisle and smirks.

'I'm relieved you're finally dressed.' He says shrugging a shoulder in a way that could be read as a joke on the student stereotypes. Unfortunately it's very obviously a comment to last night. Carlisle watches the Kid, closely. 'You've out done yourself.' He praises, inhaling the rich smell of my cooking and smiling crookedly. I dry my hands on a cloth and turn to him to judge his state of character and feel my grin widen.

'You look nervous.' I whisper.

'Is it that obvious?'

For his sake I downplay it a little, shrugging with one shoulder and making an average sound from the back of my throat.

He puts a hand to his head, inhales and slips through the door, assimilating calm the moment he has to. I continue pottering around for a few extra minutes before doing as Edward did and making an effort to greet our guest.

'Hey Bella.' Oh Jesus. 'You're looking lovely this evening.'

Carlisle was right, she's looking very girly but in a style that fits her. She's wearing a skirt under a posh top with longs sleeves and her hair is looking very smooth along her shoulders. She's not wearing any make up but it suites her just as well and from one smile I realise she's just as nervous as Edward is.

Except Edward's nerves quickly becomes arrogance.

'You, too!' she says quickly, thrusting a bottle of wine to me rather quickly. 'I didn't know what to get, I know Carlisle doesn't drink but Edward suggested-'

'Edward suggested _Edward's favourite_.' I tease, offering a glass to them. She surprises me in nodding, Edward too and I'm desperate to catch my Saint's eye to tell if he's just as amused as I am.

'Carlisle?'

'No thanks, H-.' He coughs, covering his pet name with a false throat clearing like I haven't noticed but I grin a little wider.

I fetch three glasses, mine just to be polite, and fill them half way. It smells good. Not exactly my favourite wine but I don't think my taste buds really care and after one sip, I keep needing to chase it with another. Satisfactory wine and yet I've already drunk more than Edward and Bella.

'I'm sorry for making you guys dress up.' She says awkwardly, hiding behind her hair as Carlisle shakes his head.

'Not at all. We always dress up, huh, Edward?'

'Just because the two of you do the opposite, Carlisle, doesn't mean the rest of the world does.'

I turn on the spot to glare but Bella is stifling giggles behind her hand as Carlisle and I share a threateningly unamused look. One glass in and he's already pushing it. I swizzle my own glass before draining it awkwardly, avoiding catching Carlisle's eye now I know where Edward's humour is heading but he seems peculiarly relaxed.

'Anyway, the starter's done if you guys are ready?'

'I'm starved.' Carlisle groans, jumping up to stand next to me.

'I think she meant _food_ , Carlisle.'

'Edward.' I warn but Bella is laughing again, her cheeks blushing sympathetically for us as they share a look which makes me want to punch him in the face. Me and my stupid largemouth are far too friendly for his sake.

'For being a prick, feel free to set the table.' I tell him, pouting. ' _If_ you know where the cutlery is?'

'Of course I know where it is!' He retorts sticking his tongue out.

'All in your room?' Carlisle adds and now Bella's really laughing, placing a hand on Edward's arm to steady her from falling. He laughs too, moving forward to do as he's told while I serve the first course.

It goes down well. Of course it would when Carlisle is making conversation about Bella's classes to keep Edward from throwing us under the bus and even though I have had a glass of wine, it's not the alcohol which is the reason for my staring. It's just another's warm smile.

'That was amazing, Esme. Thank you.' Bella says, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

'I'm glad you liked it. I think I saw it on some cooking programme a few weeks ago. I'll give you the recipe if you'd like?'

'I agree, Es. That was perfect.' He drops his spoon to the side plate, smiling across at me in a reserved manner before moving his attention back to Bella but beside me, Edward's in one of those annoying brother-like moods that would leave him in stitches if we were back home. Actual stitches. With me laughing.

'Delicious.' Edward agrees, beaming at me from my left. I smirk, raising an eyebrow at him already predicting the attitude. It happens. He diagonally reaches across the table to frown at the only other male sitting. 'But that's _my_ leg, Carlisle.'

'Hilarious!' The saint commends sarcastically, shaking his head. If Bella doesn't stop laughing I swear I'm going to kill both of them.

'Once more and you'll be sleeping outside.' I warn, raising an eyebrow at him knowing for a fact that Carlisle will play the unbiased role.

'Great! Might finally get a bit of peace and quiet from out there.'

Her shrill laughter gets louder, Edward joining in and even though it stinks of betrayal, I know Carlisle's laughing, too. 'Top up?' He offers, nodding to the bottle.

'Thanks, Carlisle.' Bella smiles. I nod stiffly, glaring at Edward when he raises his glass.

I drink quickly, barely catching Carlisle's attention even when he offers to clear away. I'm too busy in te kitchen with the next course, fucking about plating food up when he kisses my cheek. I jump for no reason, raising an eyebrow at him while indicating the dickhead barely four foot away.

'They might see?' I whisper, glaring at little when they both start laughing again probably at something really pathetic.

'Can I make a suggestion?'

'Does it involve gutting your family?' I say raising a shoulder. He sniggers, lowering the hand that's brandishing the knife and kissing my lips.

It makes my knees shake.

'Play him at his own game?'

'Great idea, I'll just get out my Bella encyclopaedia shall I? What should we start with? _B_ for boring or _D_ or delusional?'

'Es.' He reprimands, shocked and so tempted to laugh I fucking know it. I crack a smile, letting him laugh too before resting my head on his shoulder.

'I didn't mean it?'

'I know.' He says, laughing. 'Don't be mad. He's just showing off?'

'I'm not mad.' I grumble. 'I'm just irritated.'

Carlisle is one-hundred percent right. He is showing off and to prove it, he shows off some dumb-ass party trick with a glass and a grape when Carlisle helps me place the second course on the table.

'Smells amazing.' Bella says weakly, looking rather red in the face as she turns away. Carlisle looks confused at me and for once, Edward is taking the back seat too, looking just as guilty.

'Err, Es?'

'What? What have I done?' I ask, counting the plates to make sure I have everything, yep. Vegetables, meat, extras. Everything's perfect.

'Its fine, Edward. Please leave it?'

'What's wrong?' I repeat, a little more seriously. Edward rubs the back of his neck, frowning in a way that isn't like him to behave. Especially when he's suddenly full of himself.

'Es? Bella's a vegetarian?'

' _What_?!'

'I thought you knew!' He says, hiding behind his hand as he looks at the fucking animal carcass in front of us. 'You made veg soup!'

'But we had fajitas last week?' I say, pointing towards them in hope that this might just be an out-of-order prank but Bella shakes her head.

'Quorn mince…'

'Please say you're joking? This _has_ to be a joke?' I demand, eyes on the kid like I'm going to throttle him. I am going to throttle him and if I don't get help hiding he body, there's going to be trouble.

'I'm really sorry, Es. I thought I'd said…'

'You're an ass.' Carlisle says, grinning in disbelief. 'You really are a dickhead.'

'I thought you both knew!' He defends, awkward. 'I'm so sorry.'

'I'm so embarrassed.' I groan pulling my hands down my face but guess who's got the giggles and for the sake of ease, I just laugh before swigging my drink. 'Is there anything else I can get you?'

Bella shakes her head and points to extras. 'This is perfect. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to create a fuss.'

'You didn't.' I promise. 'Edward on the other hand...'

'Okay, okay. I didn't mean it though. I'm really sorry?'

'You're doing the washing up.' I say, pointing. 'All by hand and if you even think about roping one of us into it, you're screwed.'

'I guess I deserve that.'

'Deserve?' I repeat, laughing. 'Do you realise how much I want to kill you right now?!' Alright so I am laughing but it's still a warning and as I settle down to hide in my food I realise he's really pushing it tonight.

'Can I request you do it before Saturday? I think I'll puke if I see you guys-' He stops, eyes on where I have my knife pointed to the ceiling but with a gentle snicker, Carlisle reaches over to point my hand down towards my food, an eyebrow raised at me.

Bella is still laughing, Carlisle smirking and he's so lucky that my inhibitions are lowered because it means I can test where his loyalties lie. I take another drink of the wine, waiting for him for finish his mouthful before kicking my foot not just up his ankle but right to his thigh. His eyes widen to his plate and distracted, he takes an awkward gulp of his water, avoiding a response while Edward continues to entertain.

'Looking forward to Saturday, Bella?' I ask, momentarily forgetting all that Charlie said in the car but Edward shakes his head at me, green eyes turned away. Carlisle is suddenly looking guiltier.

'I'm not much of a party person.' She diffuses, smiling but Edward is glaring at Carlisle.

'I thought you were going to tell her?' He says, looking pointedly at me. I push my food away from me now I'm done with it and watch them. Carlisle shakes his head, shrugging slightly but my attention is caught.

'Tell me what?' I ask warily, holding tightly onto my glass because I'm suddenly unsure of the change of tone.

'Edward doesn't approve of our attendance.' Carlisle says tiredly, looking away but Edward deliberately clears his throat. 'Specifically yours…'

'Mine?' I repeat. 'Jesus, Edward. If you didn't want me there just say?'

'Of course I want you there. You love parties. Unfortunately Carlisle reckons it's a great idea to introduce you to his psycho father because he's a masochistic twit.'

'Edward.' Carlisle warns, frowning.

'It's true.'

'Understandable but not appropriate?' He looks to Bella, smiling slightly but I pull my foot off his lap to sit up.

'Why are you so concerned?' I ask, frowning accusingly. Carlisle touches his forehead, almost rolling his eyes as Edward glares at him. The glass he's just chugged is giving him the bravery to turn into some sexist asshole and for the sake of Carlisle, I fight really hard not to take it as personally as I could.

'Tell her not to go.'

'I can't do that.' He retorts, shaking his head but I intervene. What on earth happened to the 180 degree turn on the tone of the evening?

'And you _won't_ do that. It's rude. Tell me why I shouldn't go?'

'It's not for me to say.' Edward says sternly. Carlisle rolls his eyes.

'She knows, Kid. She's not going in their blindfolded.'

' _She_ also has a name.' I say, pushing out my chair. 'Tell me what's going on.'

'It's nothing.' Carlisle says sweetly, embarrassed by Edward's sudden comment and more embarrassed that Bella's listening to this. I don't give a shit if Bella's here or not, if there's a problem I need to know.

' _Nothing_?' Edward guffaws, shaking his head. It earns him a silent glare.

'If someone doesn't tell me what's going on, I swear to God-'

'His father's nuts!'

'I know _that_?'

'No, Esme, you don't. You haven't met him and taking you with us is like wearing a big red target.' He says quickly and despite the fierceness of his words, the manner of their arrangement is suggesting he's being completely selfless… like he's actually looking out for me?

'You think I'm _that_ horrendous?'

'No!' He promises earnestly. 'Not at all. It doesn't matter if you're all over each other or not, what matters is that you're a woman.'

'So?' WHAT A TIME TO MAKE SUCH A COMMENT!

'You understand the risk you're taking, don't you?' He corrects, turning again to Carlisle who is nodding stiffly. 'You _know_ how bad this could end up?'

'Please stop panicking. There's going to be so many people there, including your parents that it wouldn't matter who walked through those doors.'

'It matters because it's _you_ , Carlisle. Look at how many people have to tell you that.'

'Can we please not argue about this over dinner?' He pleads weakly, looking at the two of us and making us both shrink in our seats. Bella is looking even more embarrassed but Edward and I are weirdly comfortable in a state of frustration.

He smiles crookedly at me in apology but I shake my head.

'It's not an argument, it's a discussion. If you don't want me there-'

'Esme, stop it.'

'If either of you don't want me there-' I continue, holding my glass to my chest as I dare the two boys to interrupt me. 'Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

'Of course we want-'

'It's dangerous.' Edward groans.

'You're being ridiculous.' I reply, gripping the glass.

' _I'm_ being ridiculous? _You_ don't know the man-'

'It'll give me perfect opportunity-'

'Guys!' Carlisle intervenes, voice raised only slightly above his usual tone but it's enough to shut the both of us up. 'I want you _both_ there. If either of you don't want to come, that's fine, it's up to you. But neither will be endangered regardless of age, gender or mind-set. Okay?'

'But-'

'No but's Edward- We're not discussing this!'

Okay, this is largely unfair of me, I'll admit that. We shouldn't be irritating him or annoying him or making him uncomfortable when he's asked us to stop. But fucking hell, Cullen is hot when he's commanding.

'Fine.' Edward concedes, hands up in surrender. 'I'm sorry.'

Carlisle is very close to blushing when he looks under his lashes at me, blue stark on my features as Bella shrinks a little between three rather unapologetic personalities. Or in this instance at least, Carlisle seems unapologetic.

'Well if it goes wrong at least we know you can wreck the place?'

'Edward!' I chastise but the timing of the comment makes me laugh with Bella, Carlisle too until I'm pretty sure the wine has definitely gone to our heads and I'm giggling so hard, I'm falling into Edward's arm.

'You've changed your tune?'

Carlisle's laughing just as hard until eventually he has to step away from the table to try and gain a breath. Change of tune is overrated. Ruined bedding and a night in with Carlisle certainly isn't. I'm starting to think Bella is laughing more because of the alcohol because she looks blissfully confused as we fail to mask our hilarity.

We haven't got much of the wine left so I spontaneously open another, fill three glasses and hint at the fourth but with a smile he shakes his head.

'Even though you're the one who needs it the most?' I say, scrunching my nose.

'I take the comment very harshly, Miss Platt.'

'Forgive me? My inhibitions are lowered.' With a smug pout I watch him very carefully conceal a grin with a gulp from his glass. Edward is looking astounded, if not horrified, most probably because I've just ousted his greatest power and we both know it.

Bella chuckles at his immature gagging and like the sweetheart she is, helps him to clear the table while I'm granted the freedom to put my feet up for five minutes. I don't take the offer up and even though he's irritating the hell out of me, for the sake of his guest, I dismiss him away to entertain while I clear up the dishes.

With one hot as hell saint! Wooh!

'Hey Handsome.' I grin, reaching up on the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek but he's rather tall and he has to stoop to grant it.

'I never realised wine made you this loving.' He chuckles, flicking his hair out of his face to pass me a few bits of crockery to dry up.

'Excuse me, Cullen, but I am _exceptionally_ loving.'

'Are you now?' He challenges, raising an eyebrow and looking back to the open door for just a second. I don't know where they've gone. Maybe upstairs, maybe around the garden? Maybe I don't care.

'Would you like me to prove it?'

'Another time maybe?'

I sigh, throwing my arms across my chest and trying my best to look extra haughty. His chuckle is soothing, his grin beaming extra wide as I try to look all sultry in front of him. It's difficult though when he's tall and I'm like this tiny little hobbit thing.

'Am I embarrassing you?'

'No.' He promises, laughing. 'Whereas Edward…'

'Ignore Edward. I know I am.'

'Yes but not on account of what he's saying but rather because you're trying to wing woman him.'

'Carlisle!' I gasp, acting offended. 'I am _not_.'

'If Bella wasn't here you would've ripped his throat out by now. And he knows it.' He softens his observation with another grin but this time it shows all gleaming white teeth in a way that could make him look like a hot-dentist. I shake my head disbelievingly, challengingly grinning before swatting him with the cloth on the back of his legs.

The yelp of surprise is as flattering as the pink in his skin.

'You devil.' He mocks, flicking water at me but I squeal and call a ceasefire on account of tiles and slippery feet and at least one bottle of wine.

Mid-cease fire then gives me the opportunity to pinch him in the waist so that he jolts, grabbing me playfully at the hips and hoisting me up so that I'm balanced under his hands, face to face and giggling. It's unbelievably beautiful. He's unbelievably beautiful. How did we end up here?

'You're really not embarrassed, are you?' I ask delicately, brushing his fringe behind him in the way he loves it best. He shakes his head, his smile reserved when he nuzzles my nose.

'Not at all. I'm exceptionally jealous, however.'

'Jealous?' I ask. He nods.

'That he's getting to make the same jokes I would but without the credit… that and he's stealing our attention for the night.'

'Carlisle, you're a fool if you think my mind goes to anything but you while in your presence.'

His cologne smells so good at this angle, the marks on his neck hidden by the collar of his shirt but I know they're there. Just as I know what turns him on. How sexy he is when he reaches his high and when he delivers it. The sigh he offers is annoyingly gutted and even though I can hear what it suggests, I have to ask.

'What's the matter?'

'You've had a bottle of wine, Esme… I shouldn't-'

'Before you spurt the moral high ground crap please remember how much fun I had last night. How _long_ I've been wanting you and how I have spent every moment of the day focused on last night…' I raise my eyebrows again, leaning close to him, my hair slipping down my back.

'Really?' He's still holding me to him, arms tucked under my legs, securing my safety. I nod, surprised by the sudden movement of his lips on mine but with a giggle I tuck myself into it.

'Can I tell you a secret?'

'Of course.' I promise, capturing his top lip again and laughing a little when he kisses me open-mouthed.

'I have even less will-power now than I've ever had…'

'Are you asking me not to have sex with you?'

He nods, his chuckles soft. 'Uh-huh, I'm completely dependent on you to keep me grounded… At least, not tonight…'

'Because of the wine?'

'I'd prefer you _not_ to be intoxicated when we join forces.'

'Nice choice of words.' I praise him, laughing with my fingertips slipping down the back of his neck. He shudders.

'Thanks.'

'My skirt is riding up…' I notice, looking past our chests to see where the tight fabric is trying to slide even further up my thighs like a suggestive wish. It couldn't be more suggestive if I stuffed my underwear in his pocket, too. Though for once I don't think sex is necessarily first on our agenda. Maybe it is but more than that is just snogging him, one person to another.

'I was just saying- oh for Fuck sake. _Really_?! We eat here!'

We also eat in the living room and I would happily join forces with Carlisle in there if he wished. The couch could be fun and for sure the table would be a thrill.

I blame the wine but spotting Edward does little to alarm me, I giggle, shielding my face slightly with my hair before dropping gently to the ground, a hand guiding my safety.

'If you're _quite_ finished?' He asks, shaking a dismissive head.

'There's still tonnes of washing up to do so, no.'

'I meant sex on our kitchen counter.' I feel Carlisle roll his eyes. with a smirk. 'Anyway, I was going to suggest a film?' Edward continues, fighting the smile on his face as he blushes for our sake. Neither Carlisle nor I are blushing but I am most certainly watching his face, the reserved smile and wondering what he's thinking.

'Before you do that, I've got something for you!' I say excitedly, rushing upstairs to grab the bag from under my bed.

When I come back downstairs, the two are standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, Bella making various conversation starters before I pass the two small bags to the boys. Edward rushes forward, Cullen is wary, offers me a smirk and takes it from my hand. He probably thinks it's more porn or something. It's not. Not that I would be averse to buying him more of the stuff, it's just unnecessary for now.

Oh _shut up_ Esme.

They both dive in at the same point, pulling out the long red material of the ties. Edward smiles but that's not the face I'm interested in. Cullen is grinning, utterly surprised as he smooths the material between his delicately talented fingers.

'I know you boys don't wear red a lot and _realistically_ , I'm not going to force you but I'm thinking we should all match as that's the colour of my dress.'

Despite the fact he's not wearing the right colour collared shirt, Edward gets Bella to help him tie it immediately and despite my worries, it looks okay and even suits the red in his hair. He seems pleased which is a relief. If this is how I get him to chill out about the event, I'm pleased it's working.

'This is brilliant, thank you.'

I'm surprised by the sudden grin, again thanking the alcohol for the change in his humour. But Edward has already moved on and is fiddling with the black square box that was hidden beneath the ties.

Cullen frowns, sits next to me on the sofa and reaches in to grab his own little box.

'I want you to open them together.' I say quickly, stalling Edward as he tries to unclasp it as quick as possible. Cullen is savouring the moment, his blue eyes burning with curiosity and that smirk highlighting his jaw.

But the smirk softens into bewildered joy when they open the boxes.

'Oh, _Es_ ,' he sighs sweetly, gently touching them as if they're not real. 'You didn't have to do this,' he says a little more firmly but he's still touched by it.

He hugs me quickly before Edward comes over and gives me a tight one armed hug and though it's the one I _didn't_ want to linger on, it's still nice.

'They're beautiful, Esme.'

What I'm not going to say is that this is probably the most money I've spent on someone who isn't myself. I've brought them both cufflinks with a coloured red stone in the middle. That way people know we kind of came together tomorrow. Like a team.

'I hope they weren't expensive.' He sighs, trying not to look pleased with them but he's wearing his famous Cullen smile. Except that it's not his famous Cullen smile or his smirk…it's a new one…and I'm claiming that bad boy.

'I didn't blow my quit-the-job fund if that's what you're asking?'

'You don't need a fund for that, just quit it already.' He's more convincing when he's not doting on a piece of jewellery that I've brought him, but that's not the point.

He flicks his wrist and smiles, trying to look anywhere that isn't my face or my knee but favouring one over the other, he eventually gives in to catch a hold of my hand.

'It's very thoughtful…'

'And non-refundable.' I remind him sternly, grinning when he shakes his head at me. 'You brought my dress after all.'

'So?'

'So now we're even.'

'We're not even.' He chuckles, looking briefly to Edward and Bella who are making similar comments praising my choice. He's hesitating, looking guilty before he pulls me gently into another hug and kissing me quickly enough that I'm almost not sure he's done it.

'They're beautiful, Esme. You have such an eye.'

'Thanks Bella.' I smile awkwardly at the two of them, shying a little from Edward's equally shy grin before indicating the television.

'Before we do-' She looks behind her to the piano and smiles, her cheeks made rosy due to the drink and her movements a little less stunted by her awkwardness. 'Would you play something?'

'Me?' I repeat, laughing with my Saint. Edward has characteristically looked away.

'Edward said you played?'

'If Edward wants me to play- I'll play.' I say daringly. It makes the kids laugh ten-fold and finishing off my glass of wine and indicating another, I dramatically seat myself at Edward's prized possession.

I fidget on the stool, pretend to crack my knuckles and let my hand ghost over the keys before asking for requests.

'Chopin - Nocturne op. 48 no.1. If you will Es?'

I laugh again, pressing down dramatically on a lower C chord before bursting into giggles and pressing random keys as quickly as possible. Edward cringes, suffering from the abusive sounds of my playing before he turns and makes a face to Carlisle.

'Please fix this- she's causing me pain.'

'Edward…' But nevertheless he walks over to where I'm sat, perches next to me and drapes a finger over the keys.

'May I?'

'If you do better than the show off then of course.'

He takes a hold of my hand, gentle in his cold palms and points to the right keys. With a stumble, he manages the intro to a few nursery rhymes and encourages me to copy, softening my hand when I press down too hard and asking for me to repeat myself.

I only just manage to finish an offensive version of Twinkle, Twinkle… and have forgotten about the added presence surrounding me. So I lean comfortably into his shoulder.

'Better.' Edward applauds. 'But still rather terrible considering how long you've been practicing.'

'Go on then, show off. Take over.'

He looks alarmed at the two of us.

'But-'

'Go.' I insist, letting Carlisle help me up as I wink at Edward.

'You'll be wanting to sit down for this.' I murmur to Bella, surprised when she actually does sit exactly where Carlisle was sat next to me.

What with the wine and the giggling and Edward's music, I've fallen into a bad habit and settle close to his side when he pulls out the cufflinks for a second look. He's stunned, almost without words as Edward continues to play a few of his home favourites. Bella is amazed by it and the moment silence falls to let him play, I remember all the beautiful traits about Edward which Carlisle so dearly respects and respect them myself.

She's in awe of him, watching his hands move with such consideration that I doubt she can hear anything else. I'm warmly perched on the sofa and with my wine far on the table, I let my foot dangle with Carlisle's, balancing on his ankle in the closest thing to a hug that I can take.

'This one, Carlisle?' Edward asks and very gently, he manages to manoeuvre his hands into a tune I know too well.

'That's the one, Edward. How did you manage to find it?'

He shrugs, concealing a gentle smirk as he lets me grow accustomed to the tune. My heart is starting to hurt and with a hand on my chest I let the song set in.

'This is it.' Carlisle murmurs, close to my ear. 'This is the song I was thinking of…'

'It's called _Tears in Heaven_.' I respond vulnerably, shaking my head slightly. It stood for every coincidence I'd ever found between us. Literally everything. 'This was my dad's favourite…' I whisper emotively.

'Oh, Hon. I'm so sorry, I didn't know-'

'No, it's perfect…' Before they look over, I hastily wipe what I think is going to be a tear and smile awkwardly at him but he places a kiss to my temples and everything that I hated about the tune soon reminds me of everything I love about it.

Everything I love about Carlisle…

It's getting late so thanking Edward for the performance we leave it up to Bella to choose the film and work around their choice of seating, too. Weirdly, they stay on the opposite side of the room, Bella sat on the armchair with Edward between her legs. I would offer the several remaining seats we have but he's clearly _chosen_ to sit there and his face reveals no discomfort. Just in case, I pass him a cushion though and take the seat nearest the kitchen as Carlisle settles into the end of the sofa, head resting against the back , eyes to the TV. His smile is tired, his thoughts elsewhere as he continues to bounce my foot. At one point, during an important bit of the film, the cheek that is resting on his fist slips slightly, his eyes close. So I throw my feet onto his lap, cross my ankles and lay back into my seat.

The sudden weight on his legs surprises him but he gently tickles my ankle in acknowledgement and returns his head to the TV. It's not a very nice film. The murderer is having a flashback to how he killed the victim and the moment the show 'flashes back' to an attack, a warm palm comes back to my ankles. It's a bit unlike him, it's unlike any one really when I'm the other person but the contact is nice, even if it's not needed. Though his sensitivity is appreciated… and his touch his even better.

Until of course, the scene moves on and he gets mischievous. Something else is happening, another section of cross cutting from detective to murderer, the music gets panicky, everyone's on edge. Something makes me jump.

A light finger traces down the back of my ankle to the heel of my foot and because I'm ticklish as hell, my movement catches Edward's frown. Cullen of course looks perfectly innocent, his right hand supporting the weight of his jaw and, his left hand, _God bless that left hand_ , with the knuckles and grazes calming down in colour sits idly behind my calf where neither Edward nor Bella can see it.

For some dumb reason, I pretend nothing has happened. Someone is smirking at me, waiting for me to become re-invested in the scene before tracing the same pattern again. And of course, I leap.

By the third time, the film has caught my attention so severely that the painfully soft movements of his finger on my calf makes me react unexpectedly. The finger traces, my nerves scream in alert and my reflexes force me to kick his inner thigh. Edward looks over. I'm stifling my laughter but it's loud enough that it's covering his low groans of pain. Oooops. He moves my foot further away from his sensitive region, trying to ignore either the heat, or the blush in his cheeks (it was a pretty hard kick) and goes to repeat the action, never letting his eyes leave the television.

Meaning I have to say something quickly before I cry with laughter and Edward, or Bella, accuses us of flirting again.

'Have you ever noticed that during sex scenes the focus is only on female nudity?'

Just like magic, he drops his hand acknowledging Edward's frown when he turns to the source of the voice. I haven't spoken completely out of turn, the 'murder's victim' has now just had sex with someone else, pretty rough sex too after being assaulted which seems ridiculous.

'What?' Edward says, looking almost offended that I dare criticise a film that his beloved has chosen. Bella looks shy, pulling her smirk down as she judges his reaction.

'Look at the camera angles, she's in the main focus in every shot. It's all down to how _her_ body moves and the pleasure from that and not the act itself.'

Carlisle keeps quiet, mainly because he's still staring at my feet. It's making me a bit self-conscious. My nail vanish is all chipped and I didn't shave properly when I should have meaning I have fine leg hair covering my ankles.

'What's your point?'

There's a close up of the actress as she 'screams' out an orgasm after he thrusts into her twice. _Twice_. That's not even fairy-tale, that's just bollocks.

'It just shows how even now in our modern day everything is catered to men.' ' I say excitedly. 'Look! Just fucking look!

I point to the screen to where she is now on approximately her third orgasm, three in one, the guy hasn't lost it once and the camera stays well away from his hips, preferring to just feature the gasp on her face and the jiggling of her breasts.

'That doesn't happen!'

' _You_ would know.' Edward mutters, still a little defensive. I've destroyed the illusion for him. Good. Carlisle shakes his head, laughing.

'They haven't even had any foreplay or anything. He just rammed her as she orgasmed, that's not sex that's-' Shut up, Esme.

Finally the blue eyes look to me. But do I shut up? Of course not. No. That would be sensible. I'm not sensible. I'm a fucking impulsive maniac.

'Who the fuck has sex with someone a week after getting sexually assaulted?!'

The blue eyes soften and for a blip, I think I'm going to knock his teeth out. I look towards his hand; unconsciously, he's flexing his knuckles, maybe to see if they're healing up. Maybe to see if he regrets the act that's caused the injuries, I don't know. All I know is that he's got a gentle smile on his mouth as he strokes my shin.

'They're not just focused on her tits, look, there's downstairs action there!' Thank fuck someone's listening though I'm convinced Edward's using the words ' _downstairs action_ ' because he knows that it will make Bella laugh. I surprise myself by laughing too.

'Fucking hell, Edward it's a pubic hair advert. The only bit you see of him is moving hips or his backside getting fondled.'

Cullen's moved his hands. This time they sit together, one over the other on top of my right leg, touching both legs but not in a deliberately teasing manner. More like a sign of camaraderie. Or companionship. Or whatever. I say _deliberately_ because having him touch any part of my body when I've seen what's under his clothes is more than thrilling. When I've fondled it, too…

'I don't think that's meant to be the point-'

A high pitched squeal radiates through the speakers.

'For fuck sake, she's just come again?!'

'Came.' Mutters a small voice. 'Past tense.' He says with a shrug once he realises that both Edward and I are gawking at him. I'm doing it more for comedic effect, that and it would be weird if I didn't react. Meanwhile Edward looks like he's going to vomit.

'Too far.' He swears. 'Too, _too_ far.'

Even the tips of his fingers grow warm with a blush.

The film is getting a bit ridiculous and before it's boring me to tears and sending Cullen to sleep, we make an effort to serve the dessert I prepared earlier. Which is all very well for the two opposite us who are having a lovely evening at our expense. For Carlisle and I, it proves I shouldn't be let anywhere near wine when in his presence.

We're sickenly disgusting, so far that I hate it myself but I can't care. I share his dessert, I share his spoon and once he's bitten off a huge section of ice cream, I wrap my tongue around the cutlery and let it balance in my hot mouth, my feet automatically shifting in his lap.

Taking the spoon off me, he picks at his bowl and brings it to his mouth, scooping off the ice cream with his tongue. This might be harder than I planned... As normal, he eats more than me while I pick at the sides.

'You should be privileged, I don't even do this with Alice,' I whisper, battling his spoon for the perfect dome of sweetness. He lets me take it.

'I do feel privileged….' He smiles, making sure he's not looking at my face when holding the spoon in between the fingers of his good hand. 'I always do.'

Bella's watching us curiously, probably asking us to shut the fuck up so I take a spoonful of the ice cream and shove it to his mouth and although he's a little bemused at first, he lightens up and eats it so that I'm stifling giggles again. Once the dessert ends, much with our complaints, we turn back to the film which is ten times worse than it was in the first half.

'See!'

Edward whines and scratches the meeting of his eyebrows.

'Why did you have to do this?! You've ruined television for me.'

'Admit it, Kid. She's got a point.'

He didn't need much convincing because my evidence was pretty self-explanatory. Including this scene with the 'stud' surrounded by the multiple women he's pleasing. And what to the viewers get to see? A man's torso and two completely naked women. Ridiculous.

'There literally couldn't have been a worse time for you to call me that.'

Carlisle rolls his eyes, refusing to let them drop again because he's pretty paranoid about my reflexes. He's still holding both my ankles. Lightly though. And like I said before, his warmth is nice.

'There's far too much sex in this industry. Why can't we go back to the old royal manor of-'

'Sex and slavery?' Cullen asks with a smirk. Well he would call it that, he's a Brit.

'That is not what I meant. What about the Kings and Queens and stuff. Where you had to _woo_ a lady to take her maidenhead?'

I know it sounds dumb but I have a point. Even Edward laughs this time, the boys laughter chiming in beautifully like a harmony while at least Bella is respecting my point.

'Like the king that went mad with Syphilis?' Bella asks softly.

'Or Charles II's 12 whores.' Edward mutters between chortles.

' _Duchesses_.' I correct with a sly grin, laughing as much as them.

'What about all the poetry about his _lack of stature_?' Edward mocks of me. 'Wasn't that written somewhere?'

Like the little book of knowledge that he is, Carlisle opens ups and finds his energy. 'You mean the Libertine poetry?'

I'm trying to hide my laugh because I'm not totally familiar with what he's talking about. He loves his history, he would do, but I can barely listen to it for a few seconds before I'm creating my own little scenery in my head. Edward guffaws and the moment the sound breaks the room, Carlisle's shade turns brighter.

'What?' He asks, daringly. 'It's witty!'

He looks over to me like he's going to explain seeing as Cullen is far too embarrassed to do so at the moment. Not by me but by Edward.

'Got any of the poetry upstairs?'

Carlisle shrugs. 'Some'

I watch the forced, from the doctor, and the jovial laughter from the students with confusion. Edward is grinning with delight, more at the fact that someone's just exposed himself to be a massive pervert and Bella, I think, is just appreciating the entertainment.

'Trust me, Es. It's _right_ up your street!'

My frown stays on my face as I nod slowly. I haven't really read much of it. I don't even know what a libertine is? My memory for history is pretty shit too.

'Oh hush, Edward.' He says playfully, excusing himself to take out the dirty dishes with Bella's help.

'You've embarrassed him now!' I tease loudly, making sure he can hear me, Edward's crooked smile evolves into the grin he rarely ever uses.

'Just wait till Emmett-'

'Please remember I've known you through puberty, Masen. I have tales on you that would turn your mother's blood cold.'

I am all over this! My attention immediately jumps to Bella who looks equally as excited as we turn desperate for such stories but Edward is using his perfect poker face…until he looks at his girl and then he's all twelve-year-old-with-a-crush.

'You have got to tell us-'

'No.' Carlisle says quickly, not even turning to see me pout let alone hear Bella murmur some suggestion into the kids ear while I focus on getting this guy down but he's stubborn and not just stubborn but tired which is a bad mix when I'm watching him like a piece of meat.

Effortless. That sums up everything about how beautiful he is, it's one hundred percent effortless. He's effortlessly thoughtful. Effortlessly sexy, sweet, caring. Did I mention hot? Especially with his legs around mine on this sofa. I take one last sip of the wine, try to stick out three minutes of the television before giving in.

'I'm exhausted guys, I'm going to go to bed.'

'No comment.' Edward mutters. 'Oh, wait. Really?'

I nod, pulling my legs out of the Saint's lap to stand up and hug Bella tightly. 'I hope you had a good night, I'm sorry we didn't do much.'

'Thank you for a lovely evening. You've spoiled me.'

'Well…' I murmur, pulling a face. She hugs me again, overcome with the wine I think and pulls back shyly to awkwardly bump into Edward.

'Don't stay up too late, yeah?'

'Was that to me or Carlisle?'

'For once, Edward it was to you.' I hug him too, having to lean up again because he's close to Carlisle's height. He's a little more sincere with his lanky body stretched over mine like a palm tree but I think that's just an Edward thing where the moment his stomach is in knots, he forgets all about his so called morals, drops us like hot coals and fights hard to impress the geek in front.

The thought makes me laugh.

'Thank you…' He mouths, carefully watching Carlisle, too.

'I know.'

I save the best for last but in saving the best for last, less is always more. He's still sat down facing the television with his eyes one me. Touching his shoulder gently, I kiss him on the temples before merely suggesting something which catches his attention.

'I'm going for a shower.'

'Are you sure that's wise?'

'No comment!' Edward repeats, louder, receiving both a laugh and a gentle slap from the girl who he's been idolising for hours now.

'Nevertheless it's what I'm going to do.' I raise an eyebrow at him as if to set a challenge and bid goodnight to the gang. Once I reach the top stair I realise he had no other thought.

'Err, you've dropped this, Carlisle?'

'Oh.' I can hear his gulp as he turns to take my tights from where Edward has retrieved them from the floor. 'Thanks.'

'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight you two, be safe.'

'Carlisle!'

From my perfect step up here I'm close to wetting myself with laughter.

'Sorry!' He amends quickly. 'Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Just…err… goodnight...'

'Night.' Edward repeats and it's the best thing in the world to spot him reach new levels of embarrassment as Carlisle follows the rest of the steps.

'Was that a ploy or are you actually going for a shower?' He asks once I'm stood in the middle of his room, picking at pieces of the bedding with my hands.

'Why? Do you think I need assistance?'

Because I want assistance more than anything, that's for sure. He doesn't reply but grins, grabbing a handful of our murdered fabric and pulling it into a rubbish bag.

'We could just christen my bed?' I murmur to him, coming up on my knees to help him stuff the bag. It should surprise me that he's not about to tell me off, instead it makes my heart quicken in time to hear his breathy chuckle. 'Carlisle?'

'You know my reply.' He says endearingly, refusing to acknowledge my heavy lashes or my full pout. So I push him to his back and climb onto him.

'And now?' I beg, roaming both my palms up his woollen jumper while trying to find a perfect angle to sit on him but the pencil skirt is making it difficult. He hums a little, smiling one sided when he winds a hand up into my hair, holding me up.

'No change.'

I huff, trying to further open my stance to grind against him when I both hear and feel the fabric break at my thigh. Great. 'Well that doesn't make me feel good about my weight.'

'Your weight has nothing to do with it. Your mischief however...'

'Are you implying I deserve a ripped skirt?' I ask, leaning harder into my hands to give him the best angle of my cleavage. He's still laughing. 'Personally, I think the ripped skirt is a sign.'

'Is it now?' He plays along, watching me fondly with his head resting against the carpet, ignoring the feathers in sight.

'The universe wants us to have sex.'

'If that universe is one Esme Platt, then yes, I'm sure you're right.'

'Well considering where I'm sat, am I not technically at the centre of your universe?' I challenge, again doing my best to make all my angles look especially appealing while I intoxicate myself on just one scent and a bitterly good one at that.

'You _are_ my whole universe.' He corrects and raising an eyebrow he allows himself to pull up close to me and kiss my lips. I don't know if it's his words or his mouth that wins him over but guessing by my inability to launch myself at him, I'm assuming it's the delicate caress of his words. 'But-'

'There had to be a ' _but'_.' I whine, trying to seduce him by taking more of his attention, having those lips and crushing them to me while I knead the fabric of his shirt.

'Hon, why don't you go have a shower and I'll sort this out?' With his free hand, he picks up a tiny white feather and focuses on it in front of my face so that I feel I'm going cross eyed. I lean away from him, sighing.

'Why don't you come join me in the shower?'

He snickers and shakes his head in a gentle decline.

'I'll give you a blow-job?' I seduce, dragging my tongue across my bottom lip before racking my teeth over it. He laughs, groaning ever so softly, his eyes closing.

'Which is exactly why I'm staying here while you shower.' He laughs again, kissing away any suggestion of offence with his perfect lips before shifting me off of him. 'Go on.'

'Are you always this bossy?' I complain, fitting a hand on my hip.

'I can be.'

'Good.' Unbuttoning my shirt, I throw it directly at him, grinning when he shakes his head at me.

'Go.' He repeats, biting away a laugh with a half stern raise of his eyebrows.

'Bite me.'

'I already have.' He reminds me and raising his hand towards the door, he very deliberately winks at me.

* * *

To set the story straight, I guess it doesn't take a genius to realise dehydration plus further dehydration isn't exactly clever. Nor funny. So going into a shower drunk leaves me coming out even drunker. Which is somewhat problematic when I'm still trying to convince him I'm sober enough to perform oral sex.

Who am I kidding, I know no one is getting an orgasm tonight. But I don't really mind, it's still fun teasing each other. Despite the effort I put into my hair today, I wash it all off with the hot water, letting it soak into me as I scrub at my skin with the fruit soap. Listening hard, I can just about hear Edward still playing the piano but softer tunes followed by even softer whispers of conversation between the two.

By the time I'm clean, and a lot more intoxicated than I felt walking into the shower, I stumble back into his room to find not only is all the mess cleared, save one or two reluctant feathers, but further more he's stolen my bedding and is laying on it at the moment. He's reading from a book, hand holding the middle of the spine with his ankle crossed over the other. He's disregarded of the jumper and has unbuttoned a few of the top buttons exposing a little more of that gorgeous chest perfuming that heavenly sting.

I stay staring wrapped in a shorter towel with my wet hair pulled to the side. I'm not sure if I'm pouting or drooling but it has to be one of them because he's so unbelievably gorgeous, head tilted as he reads the lines from an angle that I almost don't want to disturb him.

'You alright?' He asks, eyes still focused on the book at hand. He finishes the line, sighs and gives me his full attention, suppressing a groan.

'Can I tell you a secret?'

'You're drunk?' He guesses, trying to not sound as harsh as the words are.

'How did you know?!'

'You're flushed.' I don't know what is the change in his attitude but I'm not sure he's telling me off. It's more like he's just making observations which amuse him. Which gives purpose to the smirk on his lips, I guess.

'Because you're turning me on.' I explain, shaking my head at him.

'And you just stumbled in here. You're squinting quite a bit, too.'

'Am not.' I argue.

'Are so.' He returns, mimicking what I guess must be Edward as a teenager. It's pathetically sweet.

'Oh yeah? Well if I'm drunk, how can I do this?'

Tightening the towel against my bust, I open the stance of my legs, stretch out my toes before pushing myself, surprisingly accurately to my right foot and performing an arabesque croisee. I don't hold it for very long, the towel is slipping and he's jumped up, concerned for my failure.

'Please be careful?'

'Not even slightly impressed?' I sulk, pretending to look somewhat miserable as he stays standing, a hand cast out to me.

'Amazed.' He amends, nodding. 'But your towel?'

'Good.' I lean my neck up, a hand in my hair when I bite my lip, the water droplets slipping from my shoulders and disipating with the heat in the room.

'And you told _me_ off for flirting.' He says with a chuckle.

'I'm not flirting, I'm trying to turn you on.'

'You don't need to try.' He promises tiredly, smiling. 'But you should really put some clothes on-'

'Fine!' I concede, pushing him out the way with my fingers teasing the buttons of his partly open shirt.

I think he's going to tell me off again but he settles for a roll of the eyes because I'm doing as he's asked and finding something comfortable of his to wear. I know he's watching me, so I lean out my leg a little, hand on the top drawer when I get confused and wrench open the second one instead.

'Es- wait!'

What the?

'Oh- _kay_?'

Holy fricking crap?!

He's groaning, hands covering his very pink face as I pull the sheet out to look at it properly. He can draw?! Since when? It's a simple sketch, surprisingly flattering one of me in my best angles and probably copied from memory. He's drawn it with black ink, generous with the length of my hair and the curls, my grin wide and my shoulders relaxed. It's unexpected, and fairly pretty but most definitely me. Hence my astonishment.

'You can _draw_?'

'Nothing to your standards.'

'When did you do this?!' I turn it over in my hand, checking for any sign of a date but there's none. Not even a signature either. The only way I know he's the artist is the colour in his face and the hidden treasures.

'Last summer. Emmett's birthday…' He mumurs, scratching the back of his neck as he hesitates trying to figure out what I'm thinking.

I'm not making it easy for him. The drawing captures my attention again. It's a good drwing. Not over detailed but it's simplicity make it even more astounding. The fact I can tell it's me, feel and smell the ink as if it's old...Explains the hair length.

'You _drew_ me?'

'Es, please. Can't you see how embarrassed I am?'

'Wait!' I pause him, grinning. 'Instead of just keeping a photo or whatever, you _drew_ me?'

'What do you want me to say?' He asks, cringing, his crumbly smile taking over as he tries to pretend I haven't just discovered his dirty little secret. That diagrams are nothing and actually, he can _really_ sketch.

'Is this how you see me?' I ask, clutching the drawing to my chest and running a hand down it.

'Please just put it back?'

'Admit it. _You_ find me sexy!'

'I never denied it?' He defends, voice higher than usual for the sake of him cringing.

He comes towards me to take it out my grip but I step away. So he comes towards me again and I jump, scooting to his bed, and then on top of his bed, sitting on the headboard, shaking around my ammunition and singing.

'You _love_ me, you wanna _hug_ me, and you wanna _kiss_ me…'

'Esme?' He begs, eyebrows knitted together in frustration as he lunges for the drawing.

'And you wanna _fuck_ me.'

'Es.' He says seriously, looking at me with such authority that I know I'm teetering across a border that he doesn't like. 'Please give it back?'

'What's the magic word?' I tease him, opening the stance of my legs again but it's pointless because the towel is covering anything interesting.

'Stop?'

'Nah, that's not it.' I say, shaking my head. 'Maybe it's got something to do with how hot I was in the summer of twenty-sixteen?'

He raises an eyebrow, stepping away from the bed to let me show off a little more and I take as much air-time as I can, laughing at myself for what feels like hours until eventually, my brain jumps to the wrong act immediately. Or maybe the right one?

'Tell me Cullen, was I hotter then or now?'

'I'm not playing.' He retorts, biting away his smirk but it completely drops when I take the towel off.

His challenging expression turns soft and he looks at me, strong in the face so weak willed that for a moment I don't really think he's aware of himself. His lips part, whether to protest or to breathe who knows, his fringe falling over his lidded dark eyes as he tries, unsuccessfully to tell me off.

'Would you make love to me? If I asked?'

He doesn't say anything, just closes his eyes and breathes for a few heavy seconds. Eventually he shakes his head.

'Because I'm drunk?' I ask hopefully.

'Yes.' He confirms and stepping around to my side of the bed, he holds my hand as I sit and finds me not only a pair of his shorts to wear but also an oversized hoodie. 'Arms up?'

For once I do as he asks without complaint, hoping to soften the silence in him but the smile of his suggests it's not a negative sign. Carefully he takes the drawing to his table, pulling the hoodie over me and helping to pull my hair out from under it so that instead it drips over the fabric.

'What if I wanted you to lick my asshole, would you do that?'

The suddenness of his laughter makes me jump, perhaps because he's turned around while I pull on his shorts but I'm relieved to find he's not mad at me.

'During sex?' He guesses and I nod. 'If you'd like?'

'Alright what if I wanted you to suck my toes?'

'Sure?' He supposes, laughing.

'What if I wanted you to fuck me in the ass after sucking my toes?'

'What for?' He asks, hiding his chuckle as he moves to turn off the light. I suspect he must pick up my towel and fold it to the side because he takes a few minutes before climbing next to me on the bed. Perhaps I should be disappointed he's still dressed but I'm actually not surprised. What I'm surprised about is the fact that he's letting me cuddle up to him despite it.

'What if that's the only way I could come?'

'Fine?' He agrees, smirking.

'What if-'

'Es, regardless of what it is I'm going to want to make you happy and satisfy you at the very least.' He murmurs, shaking his head. 'You can suppose that my answers are pretty much a guaranteed yes.'

'What if I wanted to fuck you in the ass?'

'What is your obsession with asses tonight?'

He's laughing again, feigning exhaustion because he can't handle the topic of conversation while keeping his hands off me, I'm sure. Okay that's not a guarantee but it's what I'm hoping. As for the ass questions, I'm not really into sticking things where they shouldn't go. Admittedly I wasn't really into sticking things anywhere until Cullen came along. Sure. I did it. Of course I did it. It's the only way to get a bit of self-worth, isn't it? To prove you know what you're doing. To get people to like you, to make your body feel good and stuff? Knowing its good and feeling how it's good are two separate things and I'm only just coming to understand the second half. Regardless of it, I don't think I've known starvation for it until three weeks ago. Not just starvation for sex but maybe just Cullen in general.

Maybe it's just _him_.

'I'm testing your theory.' I say honestly, clenching and unclenching my hand and in the process, accidentally undoing one of the buttons. Either he's testing my resilience or he hasn't noticed because he stays with his arm around me, chin turned towards the ceiling with his eyes closed.

'Then I guess?'

'Bondage? Would you let me tie you up?'

'You've already done it, my Love.' He reminds me and my giggle is full of mischief.

'Would you watch porn with me?'

'If I've already watched it _for_ you, you may assume I will watch it _with_ you.' He whispers, his laugh gentle.

'Spanking?' I ask. He hesitates, hinting towards the negative. 'If it's the only way I could get off?'

'If you wanted it, I would try it but the thought of hurting you isn't exactly thrilling. Is that a compromise?' He offers, sounding far more mature than my pathetic mouth. It's a clever and thoughtful answer, one that I should pause on but I can't.

'How about role play? Would you do that?' He laughs with me, shaking his head in disbelief, his hand comfortable on my spine while I stroke the buttons of his shirt. 'Think about it. We could play doctor. You could give me an internal examination?' I suggest, raising an eyebrow.

'I've already done so.'

'It wouldn't have to be doctor and patient. I'm sure I could buy a slutty nurses outfit if that's what you're into?'

He groans, trying to conceal his amusement. 'I'm into _you_.'

'So is that a no to role-play?' I ask, watching him.

'Whatever you'd like, my dear. When you're _sober_.'

'What if I wanted you to come in my ears?'

'Goodnight, Esme…'

'Wait!' I beg, childishly, pulling myself even closer to him. 'What about bodily fluids?'

'If you're asking what I think you're asking then I am most certainly drawing a line under that?'

'Aww, no Golden showers?' Not that I wanted them anyway, I'm just desperate to find his disgust.

'Goodnight.' He repeats, amused.

So I give in and nestle my head to sleep but he very delicately kisses my lips and pulls the duvet over me until he can be sure I'm comfortable. There's no doubt about it that he does his best to read a little more, which I'm assuming is just him packing a last few attempts at studying but he doesn't disturb me once through the night. Not even when he's changing into something more comfortable, he just lets me sleep in his arms without a problem.

The guilt takes over the moment I awake the next morning and I have to try and remember when one glass of wine became a bottle. There's no answer. So I try to think even further back to when a glass of wine was literally just one glass and I don't have an example.

Not one.


	44. Reasons why progression is persuasive

_**Sorry for the long break, I wish I had a proper excuse but time has just got away from me. I'm hoping these next few chapters do better in popularity though, haha.**_

 _ **Please enjoy!**_

* * *

'Do you think I have a problem?'

'What?'

'I said; do you think I have a problem?'

Edward stares at me for a few seconds, squinting painfully because of the sunlight in the living room. His eyes are purpled for the same reasons ours were. He's frowning his natural frown, his hair back to its bronze chaos with a grumpy smile to match it as he holds a cup of coffee under his nose. I'm not sure if Bella left last night or this morning but judging from the state Edward has allowed himself to be in as he forces the burn of coffee to awake him via nostrils, it's safe to assume she probably left last night.

'What do you mean?' He asks, airing a yawn and rubbing his temples in a circular motion.

'I had a whole bottle of wine last night.'

'Three.' He corrects.

' _THREE_?!'

'Maybe two and a bit. Bella and I probably had a bottle.'

'How did I manage _two_ bottles?' I mumble, squeezing myself into the corner of the sofa and rubbing back my thick locks.

'That's nothing compared to usual, Es. We're impressed you stayed off the spirits.'

I let myself numbly agree, hugging my knees to my chest as further guilt sinks in. Carlisle left early this morning and while I know nothing 'bad' happened, I'm also well aware I might've pissed him off about the drawing. And the drinking. And the getting naked and trying to seduce him. Though to be honest, I'm always performing that one.

'Do _you_ think you have a problem?' He asks seriously, perched at his piano as if he might play it. We both know he won't, especially not this early in the morning when we're both looking like trash.

'I can't remember the last time I had a glass of something without it leading to me getting smashed.'

He grimaces, alluding to the very thing I haven't wanted to hear since I thought of it this morning. I'm still dressed in the Saint's hoodie, crushing it to my skin like I'm trying to commit it to my soul. Realistically, I should be getting dressed. I've got class soon and then the bar later tonight though I'm very aware that yet again, I'm skiving the job I've been dependent on for the last two years. The change of management really screwed me over. For my safety I hope Carlisle's right. I can't afford to be fined and I sure as hell can't afford a bad reference.

Not with another job to look for.

'Can you remember the last time you went without a drink?'

'Edward!' I squawk, astounded. 'Like, two days ago. There's no need to be an ass!'

'Alright...' He says, admitting defeat. 'But how long has it been since you went a whole _week_ without drinking?'

'That's not fair! You know what Emmett and I used to be like!'

' _Used_ to, huh?' He catches, smiling.

Naturally I groan at him, concealing a blush between my hands when I spot his challenging stare. He drinks his coffee with a slurp.

'You know what I meant.'

'Do I?' He jokes.

Instead I choose to ignore this and watching a few minutes tick by unconcerned I think to poor Carlisle with his fourteen hour shift. He started at eight this morning and he'll be more than lucky if he's out by ten. Edward's reading the headlines from the paper left on the side. Nothing important is catching his attention but it makes me wonder...

'Did you really mean what you said last night? About not going tomorrow?'

He looks up, making me wait by taking an extra-large gulp of the coffee though it's still too hot to drink.

'Honestly I just wanted to remind Carlisle what he's doing…'

'Do you really think he needs that extra bit of stress? We're meant to be supporting him Edward not shitting on him.'

'It was bad timing and foully worded, I understand and I take full responsibility.' He proves it by raising an, albeit arrogant, flat hand at me. 'However, he still naively believes he's going to go in there present you as nothing but a buddy and let it pass under the nose of his scrutiniser.'

'And what's the problem with that?' I contend, frustratingly.

'The way he looks at you, Esme. He's always worn his heart on his sleeve and now is no exception. He thinks he can just hide that.'

'How does he look at me?' I ask, watching the kid with such intensity that he quite literally shivers.

'The same way you look at him.'

'That's not an answer.'

'It is for the rest of us.' He mutters and sighing he tries again. 'I know his intentions were good when he asked you to come with. I empathise. Truly. If I thought it was just a community thing I would be excited for you. But it's not.'

'I'm not letting him go alone. No way.'

'I know you won't.' He agrees, nodding his head. 'I just want you to remember the target isn't on your back. It's on his.'

'Well can't we fix it? There must be something we can do, Edward? Anything?'

'What? Ask the billionaire loony case to unhook the claws of his son and let him live a happy life?'

'Don't mock me.' I warn him, pointing a finger. 'It's not fair.'

'Sorry.'

Too right he's sorry. Though I quickly lighten up on account of his genuine guilt and similarly, my own.

'Just remember that Carlisle strives towards forgiveness. Even to a fault.'

'I _know_ that.'

'Then you'll soon understand why he's going.' He says emphatically.

'To forgive.' I say obviously but Edward shakes his head.

'To _ask_ for forgiveness.'

* * *

It's not unrealistic for me to be surprised at how well my lessons go. Yet it's naïve to think the thrill of it is going to last. As pointed out by a few of the lecturers when they comment upon my sudden enthusiasm with suspicion. The bar is both better and worse. I'm concerned for the conversation that is going to take place for Carlisle to say exactly what I fear he'll say.

 _'You're coming on too strong.'_

 _'I think you need time.'_

 _'I hate it when you drink.'_

That last one will be the worst. It'll sting because it will remind me how troublesome one drink can be. It'll disregard the night that started it all… if I hadn't have been drunk there's no way I would've been brave enough for him to go down- ' _Go down'_ isn't exactly the proper term. I don't want to hear the words. I don't want to see his disappointment or his disinterest, I don't want him to think less of me and I don't want to even think about how much I embarrassed him last night. For fuck sake, half the things I asked him there's no way in hell I'd even want. I'm not an _ass_ person.

But I guess it's nicer to be drunk and asking those things than soberly wanting the same answer.

It's getting hard to focus, my head still hurting from it all when eventually it peaks nine o'clock and the owner's encourage me to go home early. Edward's sat at the kitchen table when I come home and even though I'm sure he's about to make some smart arse comment about me looking like tripe, he continues to write up his essay by hand.

All is awkwardly silent. Ten minutes of the scratching of pen to paper until I eventually take the seat next to him.

'I need to ask-'

'What do you want?' He sighs, though when I look concerned he turns to offer his typical crooked smile.

'A favour…' I finish, fiddling with one lock of my hair, eyeing the colour with obsession. He looks across, his green eyes made darker under the frown of his unkempt brows. I feel my chest tighten.

'I don't want to drink tomorrow…' I say quietly and I feel my gaze lower to my work trousers, voice shy and without the demand I'd intended to use. 'I need you to-'

'I'm not going to stop you from drinking, Esme?'

'But I _need_ you to.' I insist. 'Look at what a mess I was last night-'

'Considering the state I have seen you in over the years I can promise you yesterday was nothing-'

'Edward.' I warn him, sighing. 'Please. I don't want to be this humiliating mess.'

'But you're not!'

'You're concerned, right?' I say fiercely, sitting up straight as I gather his attention. He groans childishly, forcing the hand, and pen, into the mess of his hair. 'You're worried for him. Well I am, too and like you said, _I_ don't want to mess this up for him.'

'It's not you that's going to mess anything up. It's the _figure_ of you.' He mutters, looking like he could just about roll his eyes to tie in with the belittling.

'I don't understand…'

'And I can't explain it to you.' He murmurs, exasperated. 'Really I'm trying but I can't. It's just what you represent. It's everything his father is against.'

'What do I represent?'

'I don't _know_ , Esme.' He groans, throwing his hand to his eyes like I'm a child irritating him. It takes a few moments but he softens, his voice more gentle when he tries again. 'That's for you to discover.'

'Will you stop being so _cryptic_?!'

'It's not cryptic, it's obvious!'

The sound of the front door closing almost goes unnoticed by me but Edward turns his face towards the sound while I'm still focused in securing my ties.

'Please, Edward?'

'Fine.' He hisses, quickly. 'I won't let you drink.'

The relief the words give me settles through my body like a wave of cold water, surprising yet soothing under the heat in my cheeks but the blush darkens when Carlisle walks through the kitchen.

He's exhausted and almost stooping, his hands busy with a weak smile on his lips. He chucks his keys to the counter, the briefcase with it as he offers me a very large bunch of ten vibrant orange roses surrounding one pink flower with the stems thick and green. They're ultra-beautiful, unexpected and oddly coordinated. I can feel Edward rolling his eyes at us.

'What are these?' I say shyly, reluctant to step closer. He looks down at them, eyeing the stalks and smelling the burn of spring before shyly holding them out to me again. My blush begins to darken to the colour of the middle Peruvian lily.

'They're flowers?'

'Yes.' I say, smiling, avoiding the gorgeous blue of his eyes while I melt with gratitude. 'But what for?'

'A congratulations for your success, of course. We knew you could do it.'

'Well done, Skiver.' Edward grins, looking from the bunch back to the paper on the table. He continues writing as if we aren't there while I try my best to seem not so shy about the display of such pride. Such thoughtfulness into each chosen flower.

'Thank you both.' I say with a smile, eyeing Carlisle. 'They're _beautiful_.'

His colds hands touch mine when I take them from his grip to put in a vase, fussing over them to stop space for awkwardness. He couldn't be awkward if I wanted him to and taking the carton from the fridge he pours himself a pint of milk, drinking it slowly.

'How did you know I like flowers?' I ask, rearranging them carefully in the vase and cutting off the ends with a knife. He's intrigued by the act, fascinated in how my hands move without me watching or instructing them.

'I'd like to think after four years, I'd acquired some knowledge of you.'

Edward snorts.

'What are your favourites?'

'I am partial to Lilies.' He murmurs, fingering bit of the greenery and looking ready to jump into conversation. 'But roses are beautiful, too. Hence my indecision.'

Somehow the offer is made even sweeter knowing that he's given me all his favourites.

'Edward?' I ask, quickly throwing the attention from me as my saint continues to stare. I can't help it, thinking how much he must want to say to me, how I embarrassed myself yet again- I really don't want to hear it. Even if the flowers are settling my heart, I don't deserve his grace.

'What?'

'Favourite flower?' Carlisle asks with a chuckle.

'What? I don't know? Nettles?'

' _Flowers_ , Edward.'

'Freesias, then.' He dismisses, waving a hand. The pen scratches along paper, silence apart from that irritating nibbling until the Kid groans. 'Look, no offence but can you guys just go and eye-fuck somewhere else? I've got an essay to write…'

'Edward.' I complain, reproachfully.

'It's fine, Love. I'm tired. Think I'm going to have an early night.'

'Oh.' I say quietly. 'Okay…' When I said I didn't want to talk, I didn't mean literally. I take it back. He's only just got in, I haven't seen him all day. 'I'll be up in a minute?'

Edward groans again. 'When I said eye-fuck that wasn't an invitation…'

Carlisle grins as he murmurs his goodnights, heading up the stairs with a quiet murmur while I fiddle about with the flowers a little longer.

'Dude!' He complains, pouting to his paper.

'Alright, alright I'm going.'

The sound of his tut echoes behind me as I climb each of the carpeted steps. Like the wimp I am, I wait outside his door, peering in shyly with my hair in the way because I'm nervous for the relay of guilt that will spill forth from my mouth. Whistling softly to himself I just about hear him kick off his shoes, fiddle about with what I presume must be a book before a premature silence. The light is still on, his badge on the front of his desk with a few bits of paper work.

'Es?'

Shit.

'Hmm?'

'Are you not coming in?' He asks, his humour gentle. My guilt is swimming about me right now as I prepare myself for the worst. One foot behind the other, I shuffle into his room. The lighting is dim, his usual pine cologne strong in the air with his smart tie twisted around his hand.

'Hi,' he greets, playfully. It makes me blush for no real reason. 'You alright?'

'Yeah, you?' I find I'm nodding too much. Way too much. Someone stop me.

'Are you _sure_?'

'Carlisle, can we just get this over with?' I beg, hastily. It wipes the smile off his face. 'I can't stand here any longer thinking about what you're going to say.'

From his seat on the bed he turns and threads a hand through his hair, making a face at a rather sore ache I'm guessing. Did he always have to be this hot?! Since when was that fair?

'What am I going to say?' He asks, wearing a look of confusion.

'That I was out of order…'

'Why? What have you done?'

'Don't play the fool.' I tell him, weakly, a hand pulling at the neck of my shirt. 'Tell me off, already.'

The sound of his laughter isn't as comforting as I think he intends it to be. 'Why on Earth would _I_ tell you off?'

'For… you know… drinking…'

'So?' He asks, very confused.

'I embarrassed you. I was fucking about and I was saying stupid things-'

'Esme, Love…' he holds out his hands, an eyebrow raised in an opposite curve to his smile. I hesitate before eventually letting my legs move in the automatic way they want to. 'I think perhaps I used the terms rather hastily and without warning last night. I _was_ embarrassed. For a _moment_. I _was_ concerned… again _momentarily_ … and yet completely selfishly the entertainment you provided is immeasurable in wealth.'

'Entertainment?' I ask, face dropping.

'You proceeded to sing a few verses of ' _I'm too sexy_ ' in your sleep but you're mistaken if you think I am embarrassed about it.' He explains, his laughter light like a sweet musical note.

'I didn't mean for you to have to look after me, Carlisle.' I groan, hiding my face with my hands. 'I embarrassed _myself_.'

'Do you genuinely believe that?' He asks, almost sad.

'Yes?' I sigh. 'No… maybe. I don't know? I just know I went too far…'

'You think ' _too far_ ' is singing and parading after you literally asked me for an oral exam three weeks ago?'

Isn't perspective a wonderful thing?

'So…you're _not_ mad?'

'Why would I be mad?' He questions, once again failing to see my point.

'Every time I drink you shit yourself.' Perhaps rightly so but that's not the point. Finally the understanding takes place and he nods, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

'It's still a learning curve for me.' He admits, combing the ends of his hair. 'But you were perfectly safe and knew when you wanted to stop.'

Finally I feel my lip loosen its stiff hold, my frown disappearing and my head tilting up. He's really not… even slightly mad?

'You really believe that?' I ask, surprised.

'I trust you. You've survived the last twenty three years without my over-reacting…' He laughs at himself, stifling his yawn

'Trust me, huh?' I tease him.

'Is that really patronising?'

'A little bit…' I tell him, squeezing his hand back. He grins, taking the union and bringing to his lips softly to my knuckles. 'But it's okay because you're tired.'

'Unbelievably so.' He agrees. He lets his posture fall back behind him, his arm curling around my back as his other hand unbuttons his shirt.

'Here,' I say, lying on my side, too as I help unbutton it for him. He smirks, an eyebrow coming up as his gentle chuckle whispers in my ear.

'I must warn you, my love, I barely have the energy…'

'Hmm?' I purr, wiping a thumb down his chest and feeling the vibrations of his chuckle tickle against it. 'Why don't you go brush your teeth, wash your face and I'll meet you in here?'

'Yes, M'am.'

Though still tired, he's up and out the door before I have chance to remind him to put his washing in the basket. I change into pyjamas, too. Mine this time with the shorts and the vest top and once he's finished, we swap rooms so that I can brush my teeth and tie up my hair. He looks even more tired in his underwear as he sits on the bed, rubbing at his neck and trying to catch the last of the news from the TV though the volume is on low and he's reading the subtitles.

'Anything interesting?' I ask, kissing the side of his temple when I budge up to his side. He's fidgeting uncomfortably, shaking his blonde hair.

'Just the usual.'

'Which is?'

'Misery and madmen.' He murmurs, clicking out his back and groaning when it causes a mixture of pain and relief.

'Carlisle?'

'Mmm?'

'Come here.' I grin, sitting behind him with my legs at his waist. He sounds like he might protest but he's too tired to force it so I strike while the iron is hot and help pull off his shirt. He does it in the way he always does and it makes my heart flutter when I'm given the space of his bare back.

He's too tired to make any assumptions and keeps his face on the news, avoiding a frown when he feels my hands slink over his shoulders. His skin is tight, cold to the touch but warms under my palms. My hands knead his skin, pinching along his shoulders up to the back of his neck and down again, letting the whines of pleasure fall from his lips. I feel his arms, loosening the muscles as I move along his spine, thumbing his back so that he groans and leans into my touch, exposing the side of his neck that I've already marked.

'Are you okay?' I ask, wrapping my legs around him and squeezing his technical love handles but his skin is reluctant to part from him. Which I _love_.

'Mmm.' He murmurs, leaning back into my hands, his eyes drooping closed but his smile sticks on his face. From above, I lean to kiss him, surprised when he kisses me back, however slow or playfully angled it is.

'Sure?' I tease, rubbing his shoulders so that he very nearly falls apart in my hands. His head leans back, accidentally heading my chest before realising and shifting down to lie back on my stomach. It means my legs can't wrap around his waist but they slink around his, my hands still running along those biceps so he's purring against me.

His hand goes gently to my knee, fingertips tracing as his eyes fight to stay open.

'Sleep, babe.'

'But I want to hear about your day…'

'I didn't do anything.' I laugh, playfully.

'Just talk to me?'

'Talk _at_ you.' I correct, teasing.

'Mmm.' He's adorable. It's impossible to appreciate him more.

'So I spent the majority of my whole day fearing the different ways you were going to call me an embarrassment…'

'Why?' He asks almost in a sing-song.

'Because I didn't want to disappoint you… and I strictly remember tearing off a towel and you dressing me in a hoodie. Which admittedly was super comfortable but it meant I shat myself when I woke up alone. Even though that wasn't your fault, I knew you were working. And saving lives. And ultimately being a good person while I was just sat doodling some naked guy in a lesson and that's not even mentioning the bar. Even though I wasn't doodling naked men there. Or women. Or anyone, I was just working which is surprisingly lucky considering it should've been super busy for a Friday night… Am I babbling?'

'I love it.' He says softly, grinning as those soft fingertips stroke against my skin. I have to keep reminding myself not to be turned on by him, he's too tired and I should let him rest. But his torso and his chest and arms and shoulders and back and his fucking face- all of it, it's gorgeous.

'I should be letting you sleep…'

He gently shakes his head but his eyes are firmly closed. 'Not at all, tell me about this naked man.'

'Naked man? Oh! That was just Olivia. Well, it obviously wasn't Olivia. Olivia is the lecturer I was on about-'

'With that kinda hot guy in your lecture?' He quotes surprisingly well. I'm super amazed.

'You… _heard_ that?! I didn't realise you were listening...'

'My love, even _I_ wouldn't be jealous if you fell for the marvellous David.'

'I have a feeling I've got my hands on someone a lot hotter….' To suck up to him even more, I let my hand spread down his torso, selfishly biting my lip when he murmurs in appreciation. It's just a shame he's exhausted.

'You're flattering me.'

'Good.' I say with pride. 'That's the way I like it.'

'You know I got told off today?' He whispers, fingertips sliding from around my knee down the back of it and up to the side of my thigh. It tickles and I shiver along his hands.

'Really?' I ask, frowning slightly while my hands continue to soften his flow into relaxation. He's forgotten the television is on because he's barely raising an eyebrow to it. That and it's silent anyway with the same old things he reads about daily. Except he's not paying any attention to it.

'Mm hmm.' He angles his face to the side of the pillow, deliberately exposing the little line of bruises that I'm already so proud of. My hands move for me, dragging up his chest, along his collar bone, thumbing the little colours of flesh. 'My collar was undone and Maddison tried to discuss it with me but I blushed so deeply he couldn't get another word out.'

'Why?'

'Laughing too hard. He started crying soon after… and then didn't stop even when he collapsed…'

'I'm really sorry, Hon.' I say, despite his smile. 'I didn't mean to leave a mark.'

'I think you always manage to leave a mark…' He murmurs, playful and yet insanely overtired.

'My flowers are beautiful…' I thank him again.

' _You're_ beautiful.'

'Carlisle?'

'Yes, my love?'

'You're tired.' I say, softly. 'You need to sleep…' My hands skim over his collar bone again, leaving him breathing heavily with a loopy grin on his face. He doesn't say anything else. In fact, he doesn't even open his eyes, his fingertips simply glide over my knee and next minute the heavy breathing slows, his grip relaxing. Simply watching him is enough to remind me how grateful I am and letting him sleep grants me the peace of mind I've been needing.

* * *

Waking in the morning is better. Not just because I'm leg locked around a hunk but because he's happy to let me sleep encompassing him as he reads his text book. He's still without a shirt which is beyond my expectations because it means I can grip him into arms and wind myself up into the greatest frenzy of my hands.

'Morning, hon.'

This particular morning I've woken up in some ridiculously _bad_ mood. Incredibly _bad_. Because I hear the sweet pet name from his lips, murmur appreciatively and pull myself towards his bare back, my leg stroking his.

'How'd you sleep?' I ask from behind, still sleepy as my hands rub over his shoulders.

'Amazingly well, you?'

'Mmm.'

My hands slip from over his shoulders down on his torso with the greatest amount of mischief I can let escape.

'That's not an answer?' He teases, blue eyes looking slightly over his shoulder to look at me. His chin is dark with a shadow again and it's driving me insane with desire.

'I need a shower…' I say, suggestive, letting the comment hang there when I ensure my leg is tight around his. He doesn't say anything but smirks.

'Well I _have_ been studying for most of the morning…'

'Which means it's time for a break, _right_?' I ask, hopefully. His chuckle is sweet, his hand resting along my skin, delicately draping down and sending shivers into my bones.

'Did you want company?'

Oh my God… is he actually getting the hint?! He actually _wants_ to shower with me?

'Yes.' I say enthusiastically. 'Give me three minutes and I'll see you in there.'

His chuckle is as soft as usual but he doesn't move when I jump from the sheets in the bed into the bathroom. I look a state and my breath reeks so I swallow my weight in mouthwash as I scrub out my mouth. Urgh…swallow… It's not too early, is it? For us, I mean? We've reached… that stage right? I want it. I want to have the taste of him on my tongue as I send him into bliss with just one movement.

I let the shower run too hot at first, trying to burn the insanity out of my nerves when the water pours over my skin, darkening my hair and making it straight under the jet. I do a quick once over of my body with a thin layer of soap, up around my tits, between my legs and wash it off straight after.

The soap suds are being washed from my hair when Carlisle knocks.

'Still okay for me to join?' He asks once I beckon him inside. He's standing by the edge of the tub, eyes looking hungrily at my nudity so I parade it out a little more, working my hands up in my hair to soak it through, biting my lips.

He gulps.

So I do what he's too stunted to do and move out of the water towards him. He doesn't move a whole lot except his eyes and sculptured torso in thick breathes.

'Will you get in here, we're killing a rainforest already!'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

My heart bridles a little at the new term of affection. Mistakenly, his hands first go to his chest to rip off that T-shirt he hasn't been wearing since yesterday and with half a laugh, he moves them to pull off his boxers. He's not even fully hard and he's successfully turning me on. So I communicate that with my mouth on his.

Despite being wet, my hand threads through his thick hair and barely giving a moment's adjustment, I secure an open mouth around his, shuddering when his impatient tongue works to make mine quiver under his.

Raising an eyebrow, he looks towards the water and stepping into the bath, he stands, lips on mine, softly pulling me with him closer to the source of relaxation.

Relaxation from water is nothing compared to his mouth on mine, leaning over me seductively with his pulsing cock thick against my stomach. It seems we're growing familiar with one another; he doesn't shy from holding me closer to where I need to be. Our tongues swim together a little more, my greedy breaths and whines becoming louder the more I taste the mint.

He tries to kiss me again but I quickly move to the intended purpose of showering, soaping his hips and his spine with my own fruit soap before cupping his ass and pulling him, his erection hard into my hip so close to where I crave it to be. He chuckles, rolling himself towards me, his tongue sweet, playful and hot while his fingertips hold my side. So I move on, I wash between his legs, around his legs, up his thigh until the only thing left to clean is his dick.

I look at him but he's laughing silently, watching me in amazement. Sure, he's aroused, heavenly so but perhaps not as desperately as me hence the shift of focus when I try and work him up to the same point of need that I am in. As needed, he cleans himself under the water without much of a suggestion.

But I seem to question that. He smiles at me, pulling me against him, again so that I'm almost under the water.

He starts at my coloured throat, pulling me towards him and kissing me enough to taste my moans from the vibrations. His warm hands scrub the suds into the back of my neck, massaging it as I press into him, away from the jet of water and into his skin.

Those hands travel, doing as I did except mine are now locked around his neck to attach myself even closer. He delicately wanders about my body as I pant for him, teasing and brushing over my nipples in his expert way while I shudder in need. He slowly slides the soap under my breasts, cleaning away his agonising touch as he washes around my stomach my hips, washing around my back, having me beg for him to continue building up my excitement and never once letting his gaze fall anywhere but my face and his hands.

He asks permission with an eyebrow raise to wash over my backside and I almost forget about the repercussions of the act until a tiny yelp exits my mouth. Who thought something like his hands would make me feel so much _better_. Urgh.

'Are you okay?' He ask retracting his hands almost immediately but I pull him back, tasting the high when I kiss him.

'Don't stop.' I ask, desperately. 'Please.'

He's conflicted whether to be concerned or amused but he goes for the latter and, gently, moves from my cheeks to soap both my legs and my back again, tenderly laying kisses where he thinks they're appropriate and they're appropriate _everywhere_.

I've thrown my head back to the wall, my breathing heavy, tearing the skin off my lip as I tighten my grip on whatever part I can have of him.

'Let me touch you.' I beg, my nipples hard into his body so that his breath slips into a chuckle along my lips. But he gently pulls away, his sweet hands slowing.

'Hon… I…I want you….' Urgh, fuck, I want him so badly, too. A grin breaks, as he looks shyly at me, those dark blue oceans made darker with lust. 'I wanna make you come.'

Fuck _me_. He wants to… The water drips continuously on my back, slipping along my skin the way his words do, making me hotter. The clean pine smell teasing my brain and my aching nipples…

'You _really_ want me to feel good?' I ask. He nods eagerly, kissing my mouth quickly before watching me align myself against the wall and gently tugging me to stand in front of me. His erection is still suggestively thick against my ass as I push against him, gasping.

'Tell me what to do?' He murmurs, kissing my ear, my neck, letting his left hand grope my left breast as I tremble for all kinds of friction. I want him to slip and press his cock deep inside of me, I want him to thrust against my body, to lose himself. I cry at his fingertips, filling his palm with my chest, holding his right hand near my other breast but that's not where I want him.

I'm desperate for heat, for movement, for any kind of satisfaction to the deep irritation of my longing. I guide his hand with mine, moving it down my torso against my skin until I get to my legs. His breath is hot in my ear, his dick harder as realisation takes over.

'Are you sure?' I ask, shuddering. He kisses my neck tenderly, gently nipping along the skin with the edge of his teeth and tongue in a manner he knows I live off. 'Keep your hand stiff but don't press too hard. Be gentle.'

I don't know why I tell him this, he'll know it anyway. My body, aching and nervous starts to shake in anticipation when I feel his chest sturdy against my back, his fingers pinching against my nipple as I part my legs open.

With a hand guiding his, I control his movements, making sure that it's me moving more than him. I take a hold of his middle finger and slowly press it to my moist slit.

The cries slip without warning from my lips. My left hand clinging to the back of his neck as he lowers his mouth to mine, left hand still teasing while his finger still… _pleases_. Urgh, fuck. He feels so... _good_.

My hand encourages him to circle a little but the shudders of need that slip through me elicit further sounds of desperation. We both groan, me louder as he gleefully warns me to _shhh,_ nuzzling my cheek affectionately. His hand, the _thought_ of his hand is enough to make me wet but with him _actually_ touching me, being where I want him to be. I'm so hot for him and dripping with the desire to feel him everywhere. I need to be coming on his hand now.

The pad of his finger moves in circles against my swollen nub and while my right hand keeps him steady, my left goes straight to his wet hair to wrench him into kissing me again. His tongue licks along mine, yielding and giving with perfect resistance making me even hotter, even more stressed for his movements while his own member digs suggestively against my spine. I whine again and he has to repeat my same warnings, asking me to quieten down and such and softening the warning with a caress of ' _my love_ '. My nipple tightens under his tugging, my legs trembling with my knees threatening to cave.

'Faster,' I beg of him, trying to encourage his hand but he's painfully captured, his fingertips expertly making my skin flush.

'Already?' He teases, laughing softly against my lips and burning them with patience.

'For three weeks I've been ready for this… _Yes,_ _already_.'

Almost as a reward his fingertip presses harder, the circles leading me to an extensive high as he kisses the seduction into my lips. He chuckles, his thumb rubbing over my erect nipple as I whimper for him, desperate when his movements work me into heaven.

'I need to come….' I say it accidentally. The words slip onto his tongue in the same pleasing manner his digit fumbles on my release.

'What's that, my love?' He didn't miss a word, he's just getting off on this as intensely as I am. I can _feel_ it. The whole Goddamn length of him, hot and pulsing.

'Ple- Urgh, please. I need to come?' I'm whimpering, leaning up on my tiptoes, my body tensing around just one of those talented fingers.

'Could you be more specific?' He teases, lips momentarily ghosting over the marks from the other day, sweet on my collarbone, warm and more blissful than the water.

'Make me come.' I beg him, pleasure building as he finds exactly where I need to be touched and …uses it for my ultimate relief. He's a quick learner, enough that I don't have to guide him, he knows what I want. 'Carlisle, I need you to make me come.'

'With pleasure…'

I'm so wet around him, rubbing myself on him when his touch moves further south. My moans become thicker, my hips desperate to thrust onto him but he's painfully patient. More eager moans slip out my mouth, my left hand tugging on his hair while my right goes limp above his wrist. Meanwhile only one of his hands is moving and while my aching nipple is thankful for it, my hot, slippery folds aren't.

'Es?' He whispers, asking my permission in the most glorious way but I'm melting around him enough that he should trust those instincts.

'Mm.' I utter, my jaw forcing my head into a nod but he clearly can't see it properly.

'Sure?' He asks huskily, poised so perfectly between two types of heaven. I'm throbbing, breathing heavily as I liquidate onto his hands. I nod eagerly, ensuring he can tell by my panting.

'I need you.' I groan, lips falling limp between his. His tongue reignites my energy, my core desperate when he gently slides to the source of my juices. He kisses my neck, sucking affectionately as I tremble about him. He inserts a finger into the depth of my tight pussy. I cry against him, whining and soaking him as he shivers against me. 'I'm so fucking close.'

Yes, yes already.

He expertly rubs his finger inside me again, copying my moans of pleasure as I tense for his friction. He delivers it with restriction, waiting till I'm throbbing in his hand before moving again but just when I think I can't take anymore. When I think I'm going to prematurely shatter against him, he presses his thumb to where his finger was previously. The joint movements of his fingers are too much.

I wail against him.

My hips tense under his, moans fall out of my mouth in the form of pleading and when he initiates the smallest circle with his thumb, the sensation rips a hold of me. It buries itself deep before taking speed and shuddering through me as I cry against his mouth and hand so that he leads me to its very end. His touch intensifies, his finger pumping as my walls clamp onto him, my grunts echoing in his ear as I rock onto him. He moans against my mouth, encouraging the depth of my vocalisations until I feel a similar hot throbbing against my back.

When his mouth drops mine, I'm so overwhelmed that all I can do is gasp breathily. He lays a kiss to my hair, my forehead, my cheek, my neck, so perfectly aware of the effect he has without being over-smug about it. The feeling is mutual.

My moans soften, my chest relaxing as I trust in his weight to support me. I'm flushed all over, my heart racing and my grip limp from his skin. He carefully pulls his finger out of me, holding it at bay as I try to kiss him lazily.

'You're beautiful…' He murmurs, kissing me again in a way that is making my heart pound just as hard.

'Let me return the favour, then.' I giggle, turning around to kiss him on the mouth, hard, heavy and blissful.

He falls comfortably back against the tiles so that I can taste his grin, the scent of the berry soap tantalising over our skin when his left hand moves to fold me in a tight hug, hard against his body. His other he keeps poised, my juices glistening down to his knuckles in a way that's making his tongue salivate over mine. It suddenly reminds me of the growing member against us and both my smile and mischief double as my hands roam his body.

They stop at his abdomen, eliciting a strong gasp as he angles his head back in relief. It takes me some time while I focus on committing the taste and the feel of his mouth moulding to mine in memory. Eventually his hand grasps at my hips and I take that as enough of a whimper to cup him in my hand.

He groans, breathlessly.

'I'm never going to tire of you making that sound…' I whisper, lips on his chest as I wrap my grip tighter around him and slowly pump him. The groans and whimpers get throatier, his frown deepening as he tries to stop from thrusting into my teasing hand.

I kiss his mouth, biting the edge of his lip and leading down again. His chest expands under my touch, my mouth kissing over my marks in his skin, easing their torture when they lower to his pecks. He gasps when I playfully lick his nipple, his left hand clenching at my side when my kisses lower to his chiselled abs. Nipping on his marbled skin, I continue to make him gasp and writhe with one hand along his glory.

'Can I?' He asks with a smirk, wiggling his middle finger.

'Can you what?' I tease, making a rhythm against him as his eyes darken, his jaw slipping open.

Seeing him being pleasured is unbelievable and I slink to rest on the balls of my feet to prove it. His attention is taken, he's unaware except for the ripples of pleasure as he throws his head back, panting. My lips drape down his muscles and stop when I reach the fine trail of hair from his naval to his dick. I eye the little scar on his hip, my thumb brushing over it as his hand weaves into the heavy locks of my wet hair. He's breathing heavily, his eyes squinted closed and so I slow my teasing of him, hold him by the base until I'm eye to eye with his arousal.

'Yes, you may taste me.'

He groans, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking off the remnants of me with a delicate moan. It's such a turn on, watching how he licks himself clean and how he thrives off it. He's unaware of my intentions, breaths getting harder as he tries to slow himself down but I can feel the veins of him throb as I make him wait. Luckily for him, I'm impatient.

He can barely answer, just lets his right hand fall from his lip to cover my hand at the base of his cock. His finger and thumb wet with saliva as he encourages me to grip a tighter, trying to slow his breaths.

'Look at me, my love.'

He forces his eyes open, tilting his chin down when he sees where I'm positioned, I lick my lips, eye him wickedly and part my mouth. At the same time as his groaning and the tightening of his hand in my hair… there's a call for him downstairs.

I raise an eyebrow.

'Ignore it.' He begs, weakly. 'Please, just ignore it?'

I smirk, waiting a little longer and once I'm assured Edward has given up, I drag my closed fist to the head of his dick and then down again, pulling at the foreskin. He groans and while his attention is taken, I lick the bead of pre-cum from his tip with a hot and wet tongue. The sound of his sweet whimpers make me grin and while he's still squirming from around my hand I go to take him into my mouth.

' _Carlisle_!'

' _Fuck-'_ He yells and I know just from the tone it's not a cry of pleasure. '-Off.'

'Hon?' I ask softly, fighting my grin as his hard-on beats to the same tune as my heart. He continues to whine, begging for a release so I lick his tip before gently sucking on it.

The sharp hiss out of his mouth softens into a grunt, his hand clenching while his left hand softens into my hair.

' _Carlisle! It's urgent._ '

I can't help it, I giggle again, loosening my grip as he struggles to concentrate. His desire starts to soften at Edward's constant calling. He groans again, not in the same manner and it makes me sigh.

'I'm sorry…'

'Don't be.' He murmurs, grinning awkwardly before eyeing both his dick and then my position around it with misery

' _Carlisle!'_

'Two minutes!' He replies, sharply but his sudden abruptness only makes me laugh harder.

'Is that really all it takes?' I tease, a fingertip touching his balls so that he leaps a little, breathing hard.

Rolling those beautiful blue eyes of his, he helps me up, kisses me deeply so that the suggestion of my taste bites my tongue and lets the water run over his skin for less than a moment.

' _Carlisle_!' Edward yells, exasperated. My saint steadies his jaw, shaking his head as he takes a breath in, his desire settling down quicker than his sudden temper.

'Babe?'

'This isn't over.' He promises, kissing me sweetly and making me shiver in all kinds of appreciation once more. He climbs out the tub, watching me thoughtfully when he pats himself dry and wraps a towel around his waist.

' _Dude! I've been calling you for-_ '

'One second, Edward!' He calls through the door, biting his tongue and shaking his floppy hair. I grab him back for a moment, trying to just kiss him once but he's so addicting, his grin so beautiful against mine that when he parts his lips I fall into him like his tongue is candy and I'm on a sugar rush.

There's a fierce knocking at the door.

'Urgh.'

'Go, Hon. Before he starts walking in on us on purpose.'

'This _isn't_ on purpose?' He scoffs, shaking his head. I laugh harder, kissing him once more before shielding myself in the spray of water with my back turned. He slips through the door complaining.

' _I've been calling you for ages...'_

'I know.' I hear him mutter irritably.

'Dude, put some freaking pants on- I can see your boner!'

'I _know_!' He repeats followed by more complaints and murmurs before there's a slamming of a bedroom door followed by a glorious. ' _For fuck sake, Edward!_ '

My grin widens and I wash through my hair several times, over my skin though it feels ultimately wrong to do so. It's like I'm washing his touch away which I don't want to, I want it searing along every inch of my skin like the feel of his mouth on mine.

Too right this isn't even over. I'm going to work him up into such a state-. Shit. It's Saturday?!

Fuck. I nearly forgot about that and we were having such a… well that's good, isn't it? That he's in a good mood? Or was at least. It means he's okay and if he's okay then I am too. But it also means another thing… I've got some actual shaving to do if I plan to be seen with him tonight.

* * *

This meaning I have to start early. So I condition my hair properly, scrub at my skin, wash over them both and dry off with the towel around my bust. Below my bedroom window it sounds like Carlisle's fussing with the car now so while he's outside, I put on the radio and get to work, heating up the wax to get started on ridding my body hair…properly.

It doesn't take long and it's relatively painless as I rip the hair out of my legs and underarms but it's as I'm parading in the mirror when I suddenly wonder what I'm meant to do with my pubic hair? I mean, I've never gone totally bald down there but seeing how magically trim Cullen is… it kinda makes me feel a bit unkempt.

What about if he wanted to return the favour...properly? Considering he enjoyed it so much. What if we actually end up having _sex_? My stomach involuntarily flips over, my lip caught between my teeth as I look over my figure several times. Fuck it, I decide. Bye, bye pubic hair.

Admittedly it feels somewhat weird spreading my legs in front of the mirror but it's the only way I can see what I'm doing. Between my palms, I warm up the wax strips, making it hot and gloopy before settling it with perfect precision around my vagina. I wait the required time, singing along to the radio before reaching down to rip the strip off quickly.

FUCKING ALMIGHTY JESUS FUCK.

The burn. The burn?! My poor fucking vag. This is agony, there is no greater agony, holy hell I'm dying, I'm actually dying.

'Shitting hell!' I groan, gasping at the spread of fire on both sides of my labia. I weakly eye the last strip, reluctant and unsure when I rip it from my skin in a quick flourish. My half scream is even louder this time, my eyes watering as the minor burn I was once complaining about engulfs into the spread of lava around me.

'Fuck.' I groan again, eying the results with uncertainty. I'm lucky. The pain is extensive but at least it did the trick. Shame it's fucking killing my poor insides from the outside.

With urgency I scan my beauty shelf, throwing around body lotions until I finally see the best one and soak my legs in it. I hesitate, looking at my downstairs but with a sigh, spread it on my sore areas.

Big mistake.

Big, big, big mistake.

'FUCK!'

Pacing around my room while holding back screams of agony isn't how I planned to spend my morning and after a few annoying and frustrating seconds of trying to wait it out, I realise this pain is never going to go away and so I tighten the towel around myself before running to the kitchen.

Luckily there's frozen vegetables in the freezer. Unluckily, Edward sense of timing is the fucking worst as he walks in on me clutching the bag to my downstairs while I jump about in pain.

'What the fuck is wrong with you?!' He hisses.

'Give me a bit of slack, I'm in pain!' Which I wouldn't be in if I'd been allowed to finish just one blow-job you sack of shit. I groan uncomfortably, holding the bag close to me while trying to soothe the burning. He looks absolutely horrified, his face turned up in disgust.

'So you're using our food?!'

'Fuck off, Edward, it's not like you even cook?!'

'Doesn't mean you have you rub yourself off on dinner though, does it?'

'If you're going to be a moron you can leave.' It doesn't embarrass me to say that the solution is actually working really, really well. The pain is almost all gone as the ice numbs the area effectively.

'It's barely the afternoon and I seriously need to bleach my eyes.' He says shaking his head in further disappointment. 'Fucking hell, I can't wait till I move out.'

I flip him off on my way upstairs, heading up and taking the damn veg with me because fuck it. I mess around in my room a little longer, moisturising my skin all over and even painting my toenails though there's no reason to. It goes so far that I find I'm brushing my teeth again but that's more on account on me accidentally drinking from an old cup of water that was left here from the beginning of the week.

'Es?' Carlisle calls sweetly from downstairs. I'm still not dressed, I'm still brushing my teeth but I'm eager to go answer. Perhaps on the hopes that Edward's been called away and he wants to finish us off in- 'Esme, could you come down, please?'

I'm still half jumping about because the radio has good music meaning I hastily skip a few steps on the way down and nearly plummet to my death but Carlisle steps from the kitchen, catching me just in time, an arm secure around my towelled body, his eyes brilliant alight in a favouring mischief.

'Hey,' I sing playfully. He's biting away a grin, his eyebrows frowning ever so slightly.

'Love… we have…err, company?'

'Huh?'

Timing seems to run through the Masen bloodline and with a crooked smile not alike the Kid's I take a weak look to the stranger in question and blush to my hair. Carlisle is perfectly skilled in controlling the situation however, and with a smirk, gently lowers me back to my feet and angles himself so that he's almost shielding my lack of clothes with his shirt and jeans.

'Es, this is Edward Senior. Sir, this is Esme Platt.'

'Ah-ha,' he grins, holding a hand out for me to shake. 'The _infamous_ Miss Platt. We've heard all about you.'

The three of us echo the same sentence with varying tones of concern: 'You _have_?'

He frowns, our Edward's double in every manner as he does so and laughs loudly. It's not disturbing seeing Edward's future in front of my eyes, it's disturbing that Edward is standing next to Edward's future and it makes my brain hurt a little. Their hair is a different colour, senior's eyes a different colour and his build a little more stout but that could just be down to age rather than specifics. They have the same frown of the eyebrows, too.

It makes my head hurt.

'Change of plan, I'm afraid.' He announces, grimacing at me before waiting for Carlisle to explain. He does so, shaking a hand through his damp hair with a weak smile.

'We've been asked to head over earlier.'

'How much earlier?' I ask, looking down the towel again and briefly wondering if Mr Masen heard my earlier excursions. Oooops. Apparently this is an answer even my Saint is waiting for.

'Now, I'm afraid….'

'Wait, _now_?' Carlisle repeats, turning pale.

'There's still so much to do and you know Liz.' He shares a look with Edward which just reinforces how much of a mother's boy Edward is. He refuses to out her.

'Right, okay. Just let us get ready and we can drive over-' Carlisle starts to say, ever so polite as I watch his hands twist and untwist in his grip.

'That's no problem. I'll drive, that way you Kids can have a drink and enjoy yourselves.'

I catch the green eyes of the youngest from behind Mr Masen's shoulder. Carlisle is pushing the sleeves of his jumper up to his arms, looking for an excuse to keep his hands busy while he forces a calm that isn't there. He's unprepared and he doesn't like the feeling.

'The florist hasn't arrived, the lights still need to be done, the tables set, the band needs to rehearse… It's turning out to be more stressful than my wedding.'

I like Mr Masen, he's friendly and his laugh is that which just exudes the family man aura but I'm concerned for my sweetheart over here who looks like he wants to abandon every possible ties to the evening and lock himself in his room.

'But, what about-'

'Not fretting are you, my boy? You know how many rooms there are. Bring everything with you so you can get changed without having to rush back.'

'But-' I've never heard Carlisle use so many prepositions. Mr Masen leans over, clapping a hand on his shoulder in a loud but ultimately assuring manner.

'He's not there just yet…'

The relief rushes through him and exhausted, he lets a slight smile confirm our attendance. 'Right.'

'So go get ready, gather your things and I'll meet you in the car.'

The three of us nod a little sparingly.

'Now, kids!' He cheers with a grin and at that we're all up the stairs.

This time, I wait for Carlisle till I make a decision on my own wellbeing. He's nervous, fitting everything he can lay his pale hands on into a suitcase that he thinks he'll need before offering to pack my toiletries as well.

'We're not staying are we?'

'No.' He answers, still jumping about his room and packing the cufflinks, his tie and the jewellery I plan to wear in the same place. He asks me to gather the box of my dress, my shoes and everything else I want to pack with his stuff.

'Are you okay?' I ask, carefully, an eyebrow raised.

'Mm.'

He's still rushing about, tearing his hands from around his scalp, disregarding of his button down, grabbing his speech and another shirt, fussing around with more clothes.

'Carlisle?' I call charmingly, perched on the side of his bed with my feet bouncing.

'Mm?'

'Come here.'

'I need to get everything ready.' He dismisses, hands gathering anything he can grab and dropping it again. He's fiddling with his doctor's badge, hesitating before I tell him to pack it. Even when he stops for a second, I can see his hands shake ever so slightly.

'Babe?'

'What?' He answers, tiredly sharply but the moment it comes out of his mouth he shudders and steps towards me. 'I didn't mean…'

With a gentle pull on his t-shirt I kiss him gently and reservedly on the lips, pleased when it helps him to ease around me.

'I'm so sorry…'

'You're going to be fine.' I remind him, taking his hand and kissing the knuckles.

'I haven't seen him in two years… I've only just come around to answering his calls… I shouldn't be going.'

'You _know_ why you're going.' I say, sternly. 'Selflessly. For the good of the hospital.'

'You're right…' He sighs but it doesn't do anything to help him seem braver.

He's still trying to pace around me, hands fiddling, up in his hair, at his neck… While he's got my make-up bag to hand I make him sit down and try my best to cover up the aging marks on his neck. It's not noticeable anyway, those tiny marks but if he's fretting now I don't want him going overboard later.

'Why _has_ it been two years?'

'Hmm?' He says softly, letting me pad at him from in his lap. I think he likes it when I'm in his arms because his hands go to securing me, giving them a purpose to keep them busy.

'Why did you draw the line two years ago? Why not before when he was endorsing… stupid things…'

'Oh… well, three years ago he followed me to this town and outbid me on a few things. Two years ago he hired Chelsea as his secretary and shortly after… he invited me to their wedding.'

'What?!' He's telling me this now?! _NOW_?! But he sees my disgust and waves a hand up my back.

'They didn't go through with it, don't worry.' He diffuses with a tense smile. 'But she still comes over a lot from what I hear… He also signed a deal with Aro which pissed me off…And he was rude to the Masen's... And gave my contact details to Marcus... It was just a lot of _little_ things, really…'

'Are they going to be there, tonight?' I ask quietly wishing he would just shake his head but he doesn't, he stumbles.

'I... _hope_ not. But I don't know.'

...What the fuck am I meant to say to _that_?

'Are you okay?' I ask him for the fifth time. The expelling of information is doing good to settle him down and he nods thoughtfully, hair slipping. 'We can leave anytime you like. If you need an excuse let me know, I've got thousands, okay?'

'Okay.' He murmurs with a weak grin.

He grabs a large grey hoodie, plain to the eye so that it covers his button up with a simple and dark tone. I raise an eyebrow, surprised by the change in style.

'He hates sportswear.'

'So you're gunna dress in tracksuits and trainers, too?' I ask, biting back a laugh.

'Trainers; yes. I hadn't thought of sweats, do you think I should?'

'Are you _asking_ for trouble?!' I say, unable to hide the laugh but smiling he gives a simple shrug.

'Like Edward said, I'm going to get it anyway. I might as well sprinkle some light onto the situation.'

'Oh Hon…' But it's hard to dissuade him when he's made his mind up so determinedly so kissing him, I tell him I'll be down in five.

As he's descending the stairs I find the jumper on his back has silhouettes of the evolutionary man stamped across it and I quite literally fall about laughing.

For me, dressing is less spectacular and choosing an everyday off the shoulder T-shirt with three quarter length jeans gives me the excuse to revel in something Carlisle has so lovingly forgotten. Its hot today, he's going to overheat. Meanwhile Edward is dressed similarly to his father and what Carlisle would usually wear with a button down and jeans but he's got a t-shirt underneath on account of the sunshine.

'Is he okay?' He murmurs to me, nodding towards the front room.

'Bit wacko but _eh_.' I confess, finding relief in his usual crooked smile.

'Wacko's good.' He reassures with a smile which would otherwise suggest different. 'Wacko is very good. We _like_ wacko.'

'Have you seen what he's wearing?' I ask, muffling a slightly frightened giggle but Edward raises an awkward eyebrow and shakes his head.

It's not until the boys wedge themselves in the car that Edward sees the jumper, one I'm informed that he actually purchased, and I'm relieved to find he's not on the irritable side. He laughs so hard he nearly causes his father to crash and even with the constant reminder of Mr Masen telling him to quit it, he laughs harder and harder and harder.

'It's not that funny, Son.' Senior says, looking back in the rear view mirror at the two of them but I'm slowly getting acquainted to the feel of a rather petulant and juvenile side to Carlisle and I hate to say I'm loving it.

'Not that funny?! Are you _joking_?!'

'It's fine, Sir. I promise this isn't a final choice.'

Senior makes some tart comment about attending his funeral but even I'm struggling to withhold my giggles. I'm not even sat with them and I'm having as much fun. Which comes the point of concern, regardless how much Edward was fretting over Carlisle and vice versa, he wasn't about to let him suffer needlessly.

'Either way,' Edward blurts through a series of sniggers, 'Very good choice.'


	45. Reasons why the Masen's know best

_**Hey all! The net few chapters are some of the first things I wrote when coming up with this story and I hope it's as exciting for you all as it is for me. I've loved it! Thank you for your loevly reviews! Hope this one is even better ;) Please RR.**_

* * *

Our saint grows paler with every passing second. Especially when Edward Senior parks up on the drive and I can't help but drop my shock in a curse. The house is fucking huge. It's not a house, it's a mansion.

We open to a huge marble fountain centred in the drive way. Following up the several steps to the detailed archway where two large windows on either side of each floor steal the sunshine. Green vines of ivy spread like on turrets to a castle and any minute now, a fairy tale maiden is going to open herself up to the balcony above. Which will piss me off because our Saint would fit so well into the puzzle piece while I'll stand out like Lego.

The gravel squeaks under the tyres and we roll slowly forward to stop from losing grip but by going even slower, I'm even more amazed at the design of the sights.

'Could this place get any bigger?!' I ask, surprised by the apparent lack of sound in my voice.

Carlisle still hears me though and with a flicker of something I don't recognise, especially not in him, he nods. He points in the direction which bears more greenery making my loose jaw fall open even wider as I take in every inch of the greenery spread like an open arena upon acres and acres of field. This is literally like a dream home and even though I totally sympathise with his sudden lack of humour, I hate that the garden furniture is technically ruining the grass on these perfect grounds.

'Your house is stunning…' I utter with a gasp, unable to think of anything else.

'It's not my house.' He mutters, stepping out of the car in an abrupt manner. But he softens a little with the air in his lungs and opens up my door for me, his hand extended.

'Stop panicking, you're going to be fine.' I promise, squeezing the hand he's held out.

He doesn't let go and with the Kid coming up by my right side, we take the daunting walk up the steps to the archway in a three. His hand is trembling beneath mine, warm around the palm with the fingers griping the side of my hand for fear of death. Selfishly, I feel like I should've been on the defence rather than the defended. It should be Edward and I enclosing Carlisle rather than how we're positioned now. It's sweet, slightly condescending of the boys but again, I'm not the one who needs it.

Edward senior points to the door while he heads off round the back to do some horticulture leaving a choice of one of us to knock. Carlisle's frozen stiff, I'm falling in love with the wood so it leaves it again to the Kid to rap his knuckles on the front. He gives our landlord a look of encouragement.

The moment the door opens, his whole six foot two posture loosens and he grieves a large but silent sigh of relief, a nervous grin spreading across his face.

The woman at the door, though older, is very beautiful and within a second of clasping eyes with her I know her instantly. She has a wider smile than her son but her eyes are the same jewelled colour and her bronze hair has the same reddish tinge in the light. She's wearing a long summery shirt, the kind you see in designer shops with posh heels and skin tight jeans but it still looks like a good middle class, middle aged outfit. I wouldn't argue with her for sure.

'Hey Mom,' Edward greets shyly, smiling and returning the same enthusiastic hug when she clasps him in her arms.

Just the way they welcome each other is a reminder that Edward is an only child and part of me feels a little jealous. Until she passes her enthusiasm on to us. She grabs Carlisle by the shoulders and squeezes him tightly, offering the proud look any normal mother would happily give.

'How are you doing?' She asks slowly, clocking him directly in the eyes so he both struggles to look away and, more importantly, lie.

'Nervous.' He admits with a tough smile. She sighs and rubs his cheek.

'Don't be. He's in a good mood.'

'Not for long.' He murmurs back, his shoulders shrugging in his oversized jumper.

She softens her grin even more, her eyebrows drawing to a delicate frown. I guess this must be a reference to his choice of clothing because Edward laughs again, his cheeks reddening as he tries not to fall into the same outburst and I'm smiling, too. Bearing in mind I've never really met the woman, I'm thrilled when she hugs me just as tightly as she did the boys, smiling as widely as you'd want her to and complimenting every inch of me from my chaotic hair, my gaping expression and my warm cheeks.

'Esme, of course?'

'The one and only.' Edward mutters and if I was wearing heels or _wasn't_ standing in front of his mother, I would've kicked him.

'It's lovely to meet you,' I say, looking to the boys to hide my awkwardness but I'm given the most heart-warming smile and from my blonde Adonis; a look of unwarranted pride? Aw.

'It's wonderful finally meeting _you_. I've been desperate to know whose been keeping the boys in check.'

Her voice is as gentle as one of the piano melodies that Kid can play _backwards._ It's easy now to see why Edward is so in tune with music. Everything about her is a song from the way she dresses, the way she talks, the way she stands and the way she looks at the two boys and myself; a random stranger as if we're the world's creators.

'That would be me.' I boast playfully, laughing with her in a very girly manner. She ushers us in through the open door, still beaming at the three of us like we're entering her home which only grants me the excuse to love it that bit more.

It seems we look even better in the chandeliers light because she covers her sigh with a hand and looks somewhat emotional. My eyes are still taken on the chandelier. A _chandelier_. She gasps a little, her eyes alighting before she melts a little into her proud smile, straightening her son's band t-shirt and soaking us in. Carlisle is smiling.

'Don't you all look so grown-up!'

Again, the choice of outfits in the three of us does little to help me to see her claim.

'I think only Es is thoughtfully dressed…' Carlisle says gesturing to the weather and in the direction he's standing, the sunlight from the open window pours down his side making his hair brighter.

 _'Es_?' she questions, hands almost clapping together as she joys over the familiarity. 'Do you prefer Es or Esme?'

On a usual day her excitement would be a little alarming but considering she's looking not at me but at Carlisle, I feel strangely pleased by her joy. To top it off she's making the whole scene far more welcoming than I could've ever anticipated. It's hard not to like her.

'Whatever comes naturally.' I'm not usually one for strangers giving me a nickname, or any nicknames with the certain exception, but she's friendly and it feels normal for her to be a little over-bearing.

'Then I _insist_ you call me Liz. It's the only name I really respond to anyway.' Despite her smile, there's something about the way she giggles which almost sounds like she's insisting on calling her 'Mom' instead. Though that might be in relation to what Carlisle said about Edward being an only child. I could succumb to being spoilt with attention. Even just for today.

A weird smile is on my mouth as we follow her footsteps through the large hallway, left into a closed room, her heels clicking against the expensive laminate flooring followed by my nerdy, architect-fuelled drool. She stops at two white doors and turns to Edward.

'Your father should be setting up the lights…' And then she turns to Carlisle who has lightened up immeasurably until this comment. 'And _your_ father-'

'Is plotting mass-brutality?' He says smartly and I'm surprised to find him dishonouring his own family name so brashly but Elizabeth, or Liz, smiles back.

'He says he'll be back when he can. He's just got to pick up something from town but he'll be back for dinner.'

Cullen snorts though I don't know why when frankly I think he should be grateful for the absence. It means we can get started on what we planned. Without having to be on guard.

'My sense of worth?' He questions to me and I have to return the laugh. Even if he's pissy, he's still cute.

'What needs doing?' I offer instead, almost whimpering when I see her pull a large list from her pocket and scan through it. _'List'_ is underestimating. The Great Wall of China is shorter than that thing.

'Well, I need you boys to be doing the odd jobs. Lights, banners, stands and _Es_ and I…' She seems to be revelling in the fact that my short name can be shortened further. Oddly, it makes me laugh rather than irks me. At this point Carlisle softly intervenes.

'If it helps, Liz, Esme has a degree in architecture…' At this moment I don't see the point in his random boasting but she seems to appreciate it. I don't even know the woman and she's already flattering me with the look of pride bursting from her. 'I'd say her measurements will be far more accurate than the rest of ours…'

'Carlisle…' I murmur, frowning in an attempt to hide my flamed cheeks. _'Anything_ you need me to do, I'm happy to help.'

Thank God we got picked up early because from one simple sentence the day flips on its head from being run by Edward's mother to almost run by me instead. She grins, pulling me excitedly to the nearest table and flattens out her sheet like a client. Within seconds, she bounds into asking my opinion on every little thing.

'See I'm thinking if we set the tables like…'

'She doesn't even know the place.' Edward reminds her, rolling his eyes.

'Oh, Gosh! You're so right! Well come on, then. I'll show you the main hall and we can get to work. You boys-.'

We turn to find them both in a playful and unexpected brawl, Carlisle holding the upper hand until he realises we're staring at them in which case he quite literally drops Edward.

'You _boys_ ,' she continues, pouring emphasise on the sound, 'Can get cleaning. I want the rooms immaculate, Edward. _My_ standard immaculate.'

'Yes, Mom.' He replies, bored.

'Carlisle, dear. Why don't you see if you can source the decorations and get started setting them up?'

He gladly accepts and with half a smile towards me, trails off to start as quickly as possible with Edward soon abandoning us, too. The moment we're alone, Liz secures an arm in mine and giggles.

'I _live_ for the look on their faces when I give them a chore to do. Bless.' She laughs musically, sounding particularly kind as she does so, when she leads from the doors into a very large open area full of chairs and tables scattered together. Almost like a hall with an elevated stage at the very back.

It feels like a hall, nothing like a home with the smell of paint thick in the air. She shows me her vision, exampling with table cloths and candles as she talks me through the design, eager for my opinion. I don't have the heart to remind her that interior design isn't one of my qualifications just yet but because it's a passion I share, or learning to share, I let her ramble ahead. Her excitement triples when I fall into the same addictive frenzy she does. She shows me a few rooms downstairs, ignoring several including the second and third floors, as she walks me through the billiard room, the extensive garden outside, the conservatory, and coming back to the hall again. With a giggle she informs me I'll see the dining room later and adds a rather strict warning to stay out of the kitchen because it's not 'up-to-standard'. Though when she grins again I think it's meant to be a joke.

'My plan is to get started on the hall and then finish the other rooms, too.'

'Good plan.' I commend her, looking at the high ceilings, more chandeliers and golden borders and feeling like an insect in an ant farm. An ant farm lacking ants.

'But tell me…' she holds onto my arm again, smiling tensely, her lipstick shining under the lights from the huge windows and her eyes so like Edward's that talking to her is just like talking to him. Except easier and less pessimistic. 'How is he?'

I'm surprised she's suddenly leapt at me so trustingly after knowing me less than an hour and because I am unsure of the relationship between them all, even if it is close, I struggle to answer her. At the very least I know she's talking about my Saint.

'He's… okay.' I say finally. 'In all honesty, I think it's Edward that's been worrying.'

'That I can be sure of. Edward's always been a bit uncomfortable with things out of his control.' She says, smiling in a way that is both friendly but also polite. I'm pleased it's another thing I picked up on without her guidance. It shows how well I know him. Even after two short years. 'He doesn't like the unexpected but Carlisle's older. He's grown accustomed to such things.'

We stay quiet for a little longer, sunlight beaming through the windows and making the heat like an oven while we decorate the tables with various flowers and such. I think Liz enjoys my company especially when it comes to flowers and I'm not sure if that's because she never expected it or perhaps she's searching for common interests.

'Have you always been green-fingered?' She asks as I cut the stems again.

I hadn't even noticed I was doing it, I was thinking about Carlisle …and several other things associated only with Carlisle... none of them particularly appropriate so you can imagine how hard I blush when she innocently comments with such a potentially vulgar word.

'Oh? Err, yeah I suppose so. I grew up with them...'

'Ah, your mother is a florist?'

I suppose this is an invitation for her to get to know me though it's comforting and not as invasive as it sounds.

'No.' I say with a grin. 'My dad grew them though.'

'How lovely! I must admit I don't tend to flowers enough. I wish I did. They're so much more eloquent.'

'Like all the meanings and stuff?' I guess, rearranging one vase before moving on to the next table. She nods, scattering gems with precision. 'You must have a good memory.'

'I only really have the basics. Like roses meaning love, iris meaning wisdom. I think these hyacinths are constancy but I'm not certain.' She takes a look at my hard work, delicately holding the blue petals before scattering them back into the vase. 'There's so many specific meanings I'm bound to get them wrong.'

Her laugh is so much like Edward's, gentle at first but still packed with mirth. I'm suddenly feeling miserable that I didn't get the chance to obsess over my flowers this morning.

'But meanings change with colour, right?' I ask, surprised by the suggestion of concern in my tone. If she's noticed it, she does well to hide it.

'If only men thought like that.' She says with a laugh which I think is a joke at her Husband's expense. 'Technically yes but I'm sure they fit under a general term.'

'Like Roses?'

'Like Roses.' She agrees. 'When I was younger I could prattle off every different meaning and not give it a second thought. Like yellow roses meaning friendship, white roses meaning innocence… the _obvious_ red.' She rolls her eyes at something but busies her hands again.

'What about orange roses?' What about white and pink Peruvin lilies? What about their union? What does it _mean_?!

'Orange?' She repeats. 'What a peculiar taste. You know, I've never heard anyone loving orange roses.'

'No, no.' I shake my head, scratching the exposed part of my shoulder nervously. 'I was asking their meaning.'

'Oh!' She laughs at herself, like Alice would and it makes me miss her intensely. 'Well orange roses are quite rare. Not extensively rare, just uncommon.' She looks to judge how interested I am in her information and it's a struggle to hold back my tongue in demanding the answer. 'All roses are a form of love.'

'Yeah?' I say, casually though my teeth are breaking through my lip.

'Well if you're looking at gradient wise, orange isn't that far from red. And colour wise it can be a lot more bold than pink which I think is admiration and joy…'

My hand is gripping the tools in my hand, the flowers curling and the knife gleaming under my moist hands.

'So orange ones…?' I'm trying not to be impatient but the need to know, the rush of heat through my skin.

'Enthusiasm? I think it's probably similar to pride and admiration but more energetic… _adoration_ maybe?' She laughs and shakes away a piece of her short hair. 'Not exactly the kind to send to your parents.'

'Shoot!' I wasn't even thinking but the edge of the blade has caught my thumb, splitting the skin perfectly and producing a huge tear of blood.

'Oh dear!' She says, stepping towards me. 'Luckily, we know a first aider, eh?'

Her eyes flick to her watch and smiling, she indicates the other room encouraging me to hold my hand up so as not to taint the table cloths.

'I suppose we should see how the boys are getting on anyway.'

* * *

For starters, not as well as we hoped. It was hot in the hall meaning that it's even hotter in the corridors and such. They've both disregarded of their outer clothing, Carlisle now dressed in just a shirt while he pours with sweat. With a gentle call and a hand on my shoulder she beckons him towards us.

'Your skills are required, Doctor.'

I've been in this stupid position so many times this month that all I can do is blush and look to the floor in hopes my fringe will hide the most of my embarrassment. He frowns, stepping towards us before offering a smile in relief.

'Ah.'

'I'm sorry, it was an accident.' I mutter, ignoring Edward's laughter as an extra pair of eyes watch over the exchange. 'Honestly, I'm fine.'

'Still, maybe an X-ray will help?'

'An X-ray?' I question.

'Considering how clumsy you've become as of recent...?' He laughs, holding his hand out to take a look at my severely _minor_ injury.

'Edward.' Liz barks suddenly, handing a hand out. 'Come look at the hall?'

'But I'm doing this?' He complains, pointing up to the lights he's entwining around the doorway.

' _Now_.' She insists, glaring. He rolls his eyes, mutters something under his breath and passes us in contempt while Carlisle holds my thumb at an angle to stop the blood from oozing. His deep eyes hold mine, heavy with humour as he watches them, for no real reason, leave the room.

'Just to give you privacy.' Liz mutters, waving a hand and closing the door on us. I blush even harder at the effort she's gone to in order to secure this apparent need for privacy. Thankfully, he's chuckling.

'How bad is the pain on a scale of one-to-ten?'

'Are you joking?' I scoff, pointing my thumb towards his nose. 'It doesn't even make the scale. I really didn't want to cause a fuss.'

'I must admit your injuries are rather trivial…' He winks at me, eyeing the tiny drop of blood with a playful smile. I'm raising an eyebrow at him. Okay so now I'm offended.

'Aren't you meant to be giving me the full going-over?' I question, distastefully. 'You don't want to miss anything. I don't want no-backstreet surgeon. For all you know, I could be a haemophiliac!'

'You're right.' He muses, he looks at my thumb, watches the blood, squeezes the joint slightly so that I complain. With his eyes on me, smirking, he sucks the blood from my cut, tongue pressed against the slit, warm liquid touching his lips so that a shiver is itching at my neck.

'Nope.' He says, freeing his mouth as he shows me the wet edge of my pink, but non-bleeding, cut. 'Clotting perfectly. You'll survive.'

'I hope you don't do that with all your patients.' I whisper, frowning. 'No wonder we were given privacy.'

'Only the beautiful ones.' He replies smartly.

'I suppose that should make me jealous?' I guess.

'If you'd like… for now I think we should uphold what little shred of dignity Edward is trying to uphold.'

'And you're saying this after he denied you a blow-'

'For the last time, Mom.' Edward groans, throwing the door back open and storming through it. He glares at Carlisle on the way past but the laughter is sparkling in his blue eyes as he drops my hand back to me. ' _See_?'

'Patient is doing well.' Carlisle confirms, smirking. 'No further cause for treatment.'

'Should I suggest Get Well Soon flowers?' Liz asks, smiling in a way that makes me blush again while Carlisle frowns in confusion.

'So what's next?' I ask, turning again to Elizabeth. She's running her hands down the list, murmuring to herself when Senior walks through a back door and points to Carlisle.

'Feeling strong?'

'Sir?'

'Got some heavy lifting to do. Edward why don't you help your mother with the flowers?'

'Oh ha- _ha_.' He says stiffly, ignoring his father's jibes by simply letting Liz rush to his defence (and rush, she does).

'The flowers are already done, thank you very much. Why don't you go help out the band instead? Depending on what you're doing, Dear, Esme might be able to help.'

Senior smiles, not as intentionally patronising as it is I think, and guiltily shakes his head. 'Sorry Sweet, more of a man's job. Tools and various other things. Wouldn't want anyone getting hurt?'

Carlisle coughs, delicately raising his hand but with a grin I interrupt the two of him.

'Better stand aside and let the experts handle the job, then.' I reply, trying to resist the urge to lean on my hip. From behind, Elizabeth lets out one proud snort to her Husband.

'I _like_ her.'

'Esme studied architecture…' Carlisle explains pulling at the ends of his hair as Senior looks as if he's going to burst into the strange temper Edward does when you call him out on his shit. Instead he laughs.

'Goodness me, all five foot of you?'

'Five foot six, and yes, Sir. Majored in it for four years and finished with a 4.0 average.'

I didn't say I was naturally amazing at mathematics and science but by heck I worked for it. Hence why the scholarship has been really difficult to get, as has interior design in a second degree. No one wants me to do another undergraduate study. Least of all the university.

'Well… that shuts me up... I came out of undergrad with a 3.8.' He says with a jovial laugh. 'Come on then, I'll need your instruction. Coming, Edward?'

'Are you going to insult the genes you installed me with due to your faulted and one dimensional view of gender stereotypes?'

'Eh?'

'I'll help.' He says with a roll of his eyes, making Carlisle and Elizabeth laugh in a manner which suggests it's typical for Edward and Edward to banter.

* * *

We don't go very far into the garden, we stick to a huge wooden gazebo which the boys are sweating over trying to put up it up with the sun so stiflingly warm on our skin. Not that anyone would admit it but it's far easier having me instruct them all because it gives them the excuse to mess around a bit, leaping over wooden slats while I fuss around with all the specifics.

I say mess around. Of course there's only two of them that are messing around, the other is stuck to my side like a loyal Puppy, bounding with excitement at every new job I give him.

'So what's left, the borders?' He asks pulling the material off his skin where the sweat has made it into a second body suit. He's pink in the cheeks, his breath hot where we've spent too long out here but Edward and Senior are winding each other up in the background while Liz hands out glasses of fresh juice.

'I think if we get the top all linked…' I point to where we've managed to plant the four tall feet into the space. 'Then all we have to do is wind in the lights which you boys can do while I help out Liz with the rest of the hall.'

'Okay.' He agrees, flicking the sweat from his palms and neck in disgust. 'I'll just go grab a ladder.'

'Before you do.' I grab him by the wrist. 'Take your shirt off, you're going to overheat in this weather.'

'Honestly, I'm fine.'

'You're melting.' I correct. 'So am I but at least I'm wearing something light.'

'It's not really appropriate...' He whispers, shyly, throat coming down in a thick swallow. With a laugh, I nod behind me. I didn't get the suggestion from thin air. Both Masen boys are passing their shirts to Elizabeth who folds them as though putting away washing.

'Oh.'

'Shirt, ladder and I'm going to grab a drink.'

Elizabeth grins when she sees I'm making my way over to the table and praises my hard work. She also takes time to comment on the heat and hand me a cold cloth from the same ice cooler the drinks were in.

'I don't know how it got warm so quickly. No one would think we're in March!'

The water is refreshing on my flushed skin, the cold water even better as it soothes over every suggestion of an ache which has been threatening to appear since we started. I'm surprisingly pleased. We've managed to get a lot done, even with the varying efforts of the men as they either fix other lights and decorations, or, as is more prominent, prove why they struggle to work together. It's only Carlisle that's has refused to waver in this heat but I think that's because I'm bossing him around… and he seems to enjoy that.

After spending a good ten minutes cooling down, I'm introduced to what a shitting waste of an effort it is on his return without the lack of shirt. I really shouldn't have done this to myself, especially not in front of company. Fuck me, if we were alone, I'd press myself right against every indentation of his torso, I'd work my hands along those perfect shoulders and I would ride him so hard into the grass that not only would we leave covered in mud and soil… but we would leave imprints of our body in the greenery.

I think I could turn myself on thinking about him orgasming, his hands deep into the earthy ground as I lick every inch of him.

'Bad news, I'm afraid.' Carlisle calls, wiping the shine from his forehead and standing close to the where the breeze is cooling. 'I've looked but I can't find one.'

'Have you checked the garage?' Senior asks, ready to slink off in hunt.

'Empty… excusing a few classic cars of course.' He smiles at me, rubbing his hands together as he tries to work out how to gather the needed inches to get up-top. Edward isn't much help, if any, he keeps making curt suggestions and asking if he can be excused.

'Could always climb it?' I tease but both of them look to each other, their upper nudity and their shine of sweat with something of a mutual disgust. To further excuse themselves, they both show me their hands. They're black, covered with dirt and soil where we've been working though mine are refreshingly pink. They don't want to get the frame dirty. 'Alright, why don't you give me a hand up?'

'Es…' He starts to say but Edward's smile is helping to persuade.

'Go on, up against the stand' I say, pointing. He holds his smirk as tightly as possibly.

'Please be careful.' Liz says from behind.

Carlisle groans, crouching slightly with his hands cupped between himself. His shirt is dropped between him, his cheeks flushed in the most adorable way. He nods his head to Edward, asks him to stand behind me to ensure I don't fall and gives me the go ahead.

'Wait!'

'What?' I ask, stepping back. He nods to my feet and with an eye roll I chuck my shoes across the grass and indicate trying again.

I secure my hands on his naked shoulders, refusing myself the right to desire it, kicking up from his palm to stand up on one sturdy shoulder and then the other, my hand against the wood. He lifts me up, his hands guiding the back of my thighs as he holds me secure and once he's nodded to Edward, he pushes his posture straight.

'All okay?' He asks, head tilted up at me.

I cheekily wink at him, snicker when he glows beetroot and indicate that he needs to lift me higher. He freaks a little when I push myself on the top of my feet but he needs to remember my balance is, mostly, fantastic and this is a move I've been doing since I was five, if not younger. Edward comes around to pass me the end of one of the poles, listening to Liz indicate that it needs to be higher, lower, further right.

'All done?' He asks, eyes on me.

'Yep.' That's the thing about ladders. They have steps, unfortunately Carlisle does not and as much as you can climb him like a tree… getting down isn't so easy. 'Err? I think I'm going to jump-'

'Es!' Two of them gasp but Edward is laughing at the both of them.

'Its fine, when she falls, we'll have an excuse to leave.'

'Edward.' Liz whispers disapprovingly but he just grins at me.

'Here?' Carlisle suggests, hands sliding from my thighs to where my hips are. 'Now jump…'

'Sure?' I ask. He nods, smiling tensely so I step back and just when I think I'm going to be free falling, his palms tighten on my waist, guiding me down his front like a really inappropriate tango dance. If he wanted he could lick my nipple, that's how closely I'm pressed against him.

'Hey.' I joke when I've slid down enough to face him.

'Hey, yourself.' He murmurs and now my hands are on those shoulders and holy fuck I'm drooling. We could so easily make love here. For hours, too. Mmm.

'Look what I found!' Senior calls from behind. Carlisle carefully places me on the floor so that I can see the huge ladder he's carrying and feel the boys laughter in my ear. He detaches his hands from my body.

'That'll probably make things easier…'

'Esme.' Liz calls, coming towards us and grinning. Edward keeps shaking his head at her but she's ignoring it very well. 'Don't suppose you're any good with a paintbrush?

'The best!' Carlisle says with a bright, and sweetly gorgeous smile.

She beams, showing me exactly what she has in mind for a spot at the back of the stage while she tends to something else.

* * *

Soon enough the hours tick by unconcerned, things get done with speed and once Elizabeth leaves to start dinner, I paint the bottom of the stage with the quick drying paint. It's been a hot day and as much fun as the radio is, there's been something genuinely thrilling about hearing the boys in the garden as they fuss with the remaining lighting and benches to outdoor tents and paths. Eventually though, while the light is streaming through the open windows and drying my handy work, the laughter settles down until I can only see Edward and his father fooling about.

'Hey.'

Oh holy fuck.

Carlisle's stood close to the doorway, his jumper and his shirt in his hands with a gorgeous shine of sweat over his body, those perfect muscles still on display. His light hair is a mess where he has obviously been fussing with it, his jaw is still slightly dark with that gorgeous stubble and with him watching me, I could just about faint.

'Get much done?' He probes.

How is it possible I forget how insanely good looking he is?

'H-hey.' I stammer, alerted, eyes taking him as he walks right across the room, through the tables to stand below the stage.

I have no idea if he looked sexier in the shower or now. Okay, that's a lie. He was definitely hotter when he was pleading my name. And when he had his hand in me-. _Shouldn't_ be thinking about that now.

'It looks great in here.' He says softly, looking around the room with a grin.

I quickly peek at the door and trusting we're free, loop an arm around his neck and pull him to my mouth. He wasn't expecting it and jumping a little, he kisses me back, cheeks coloured when I pull away.

'Shirts are so overrated.' I say emphatically, looking down his chest.

'It's still like four-hundred degrees outside. Working in that heat is killer.'

'Working?' I question, playfully. 'Is _that_ why you're so tanned?'

'Take a whiff if you don't believe me. I smell vile.' He extends his arms and grins. I inhale through my nose and laugh.

'All man.' I assure him, wrinkling my nose. He laughs, rubbing his face tiredly, jumper tight in his grip. 'Carlisle?'

'Mm?'

'I-.' I stop, breathe in through my nose again despite the mix of fragrance and push my hair out my face. 'I'm having a really nice day...'

'Es,' he murmurs, shyly, looking away. 'I am, too...'

He's even more embarrassed now, rubbing the back of his head and shifting the hair up from my unexpected praise as he tries to look away from me. He keeps trying to say the words he's been meaning to say for a while but with a quick look towards me, he swallows them into silence, eyes on his feet.

I just want to throw myself at him.

'Reckon you could kiss me again without sending me crazy?'

He stutters, looking again towards the door before reaching up on his tiptoes to press his lips onto mine. He's shy, still nervous though I'm not exactly sure why. I just make sure he feels my support and leaning into me, I'm _sure_ he feels it. He's so blissfully sweet, letting himself be open with me because he trusts me explicitly.

 _'And what is going on here?!_ ' A voice roars.

His whole stance buckles beneath me and he violently throws himself from me at speed, a hand falling immediately to his chest. It's not funny but Edward bursts into laughter even louder than that in the car, holding his stomach as he continues to laugh.

'It's not funny, Kid.' Carlisle murmurs weakly and despite my grin, I realise he was scared. He still is very, very scared.

'You shat yourself!' He yells, laughing more but he's suddenly caught an eye of the tense expression and guiltily clears his throat. 'Oh… err… sorry?'

Hastily, he pulls on his jumper, covering himself up and flattening the hood as he rubs his hand back through his thick locks. He's forcing himself to smile.

'Mom says we should go get ready now. Considering we might need showers and stuff.'

'Thanks.'

'Second floor. Left of the staircase.'

'I know what rooms.' He replies, stiffly.

Edward holds his hand up in surrender, smiling awkwardly. Carlisle attempts a weak smile and promises to meet me at the staircase once I'm ready. As he walks past the Kid, he relaxes to let a reassuring hand touch his shoulder and with an encouraging look, heads out the room.

'Nice going.' I congratulate him. Edward groans.

'I genuinely thought he was fine. He was _so_ relaxed in the garden. Excited even.'

'Excited?' I repeat. _'Really_?' Proves how oblivious Edward can be.

'Yeah alright, I'll go talk to him… But I'm being serious. Time to get ready.'

I take a quick look on my phone and grimace. It's half three. It feels like we've been here for days but everything I could have been instructed to do is done. Despite Edward's thoughtlessness, he's looking genuinely guilty so I let him help me up and squeeze his hand.

'It's not your fault. Given a normal day he probably would've laughed.'

'For a moment I thought he would… Now I feel kinda shitty. I've spent hours having a go at both of you and _I_ pissed him off.'

'Edward?'

'What?' He asks, frowning.

'Are you nervous, too?'

He scoffs, taking a second to play it off but when he realises I'm staring he nods. 'A little. I just didn't think… I was trying to be normal.'

'He'll appreciate it another time.' I promise. 'I will, too.'

'Eurgh, well I better go and-' He's interrupted by a voice outside, a voice of snobbery and arrogance. I feel my blood run cold.

 _'What do you think you are wearing?!_ '

For no real reason, Edward puts a finger to his lips and tells me to stay put, listening out carefully.

 _'Two years and that's the first thing you say?_ ' We hear our landlord scoff but even with the angry reply I can hear from here that its said qustionably, fearing further repuccions though acidic.

 _'Carlisle! Dear?_ ' There's the soft sound of her exasperated sigh followed by the sound of footsteps.

 _'What_?'

 _'Don't you 'what' me, Eustace_.' Elizabeth replies hotly. _'I've told them to be ready for dinner so you'd better get ready, too._ '

 _'Fine. Send him in immediately._ '

 _'No chance. Let him cool off and clean up. You can speak to him later_.'

 _'Fine. If he wishes to act like a child..._ '

Edward looks to me, his green eyes enlarge as he swallows down a breath. For once I'm glad I'm with Edward and not Carlisle. It means I don't have to pretend to be brave, I can let my face look as disgusted as it wants and find support in the reflection on the Kid's face.

After a brief conversation with Elizabeth, Edward shows me to the room, fetches my stuff for me and disappears to apologise to Carlisle. The shower close to my wall is running, though and I know for a fact he's probably trying to clear his mind.

Luckily, I started my routine far earlier than the boys meaning I don't have to wash as thoroughly. I make time to do it though because the water is cooling. Especially when I soak my skin in the sweet perfume that I only use for special occasions. Alice's suggestions are useful and once I've curled my hair and softened them to make them look far classier than they would usually, I start on make-up. Make-up is easier though and ensuring my neck is all covered up, despite the fact that I haven't been able to spot anything anyway, I move on to my face. Elizabeth knocks on my door.

'Can I come in?' She opens the door warily, smiling at my admission and letting her smile grow when she sees all that I've done so far. 'Oh, don't you look wonderful.'

'I'm nowhere near finished yet.' I laugh, huddling close to the beauty desk by the windows and letting the natural sunlight fall over my skin. The jumper is longer on me than I had expected, coming close to my knees especially when I squat. I can feel the green eyes of the Masen bloodline hanging onto my back.

'Perhaps not his greatest choice…' she murmurs, coming up close behind me. She's already dressed, her hair swooped behind and pinned up to look incredibly fancy with a Grecian inspired blue dress draping down.

'The jumper?' I guess, she nods.

'How did it come into your possession?' She asks, watching me struggling to drag the eyeliner across my lids

'Mine? Err, it was hanging on the door. I thought it was best to put it somewhere he wouldn't lose it.'

Nice one, Esme. Lie to the one person in the house who has been taught to recognise lying the moment she hears it. She comes towards me, indicating the stick in my hand and encourages me to stay still as she drags it with precision in a perfect line across my lid.

'They're quite lucky to have you, aren't they?' She hums to herself before moving onto my other eye and carefully drawing across that, too.

I almost want to tell her my hands are usually a lot steadier but since this morning, hell, since a few weeks ago, no matter how steady they are, they are just as vulnerable to trembling, too.

'I doubt it.' I confess, shyly. 'They're always looking out for me, I'm far luckier.'

Maybe even to a fault but I like the fact that this isn't specifically a Carlisle thing. Edward is just as loyal and just as obsessed with my safety. He's also better at communicating it and far more honest with his intentions. Though that makes him impulsive, too. She sighs softly, knowing that I'm telling her what she wants to hear but appreciating it, too.

'Well it can't have have driven you _too_ crazy if you're still living with them.' She laughs, pleased with my gratitude when I look in the mirror.

'I don't think I could live with anyone else.' Emmett I'd murder, I'd never see Jasper, I hardly know the girls and Alice is currently plotting my death.

'I hope you're not just saying that because I'm Edward's mother.' She sings suspicious. 'I think I know more than anyone he can be somewhat impossible to live with.'

'Not at all.' I lie. He _can_ be impossible but he's also very useful. Even when he's pissing me off there's something that feels homely about his banter. I don't tell her that, I just watch her raise a questioning eyebrow at me. 'Carlisle usually keeps him in check most days.'

'I don't believe that for a second.'

'Okay, _fine_.' I admit, laughing. 'But he's not that bad. He even cleared up the other day.'

She gasps audibly. 'He did? Oh I'm so jealous, he never does that at home. Paper everywhere. It drives his father mad.'

I laugh with her, finishing off my face off make-up before grabbing a red lipstick and questioning it. From behind me, she nods her head encouragingly.

'How about Carlisle?' She asks, a knowing expression on her face that makes me want to blush yet again.

'To live with?' I question, my voice guilty.

'You've been with him a while, right?'

Does she mean living arrangements of been with? Is she being personal? How am I meant to know? Someone translate!

'We've been in the same house three years in the summer.'

The same bedroom intermittently since two and a half years ago. Nothing like when it first started and he used to sacrifice his whole bed to sleep in what would become Edward's room. Or even a few months after that when I used to just start sneaking in and ask for company which usually ended with him on the floor. Then came the times after that when I used to avoid waking him at all. I would just crawl into the space next to him and sleep. Eventually he accustomed to me. I wormed my way in.

'I'm very proud of them…'

'Me too.' I say, she catches my eye and gives me a rather nervous smile.

'I'm pleased you're here, Esme. I know you don't really know any of us-'

'It feels like I do.' I don't know whose fault that is but I like it.

'I think they like having you around. They relax around you… especially Carlisle…'

Cue the stuttering, blushing mess that is my guilty ass. 'Oh, I don't know about that…' I say, becoming shy.

For example _twice_ he's nearly suffered a heart attack while in my presence and I didn't even get to help him chill out about it this morning. She looks like she's going to say something else, her mouth opens, hand reaching out when Edward walks in with a quick knock.

'Don't suppose you've got-'

'Edward!' His mother growls. 'What have I told you about _knocking_?'

He blushes, stepping back to hide towards the door but with a laugh I assure them its fine. I'm wearing a jumper after all. Edward looks like he wants to drown he's so embarrassed which is strange because he's definitely seen me in less clothes than this and not freaked. Opposing this, he's also very nearly seen me naked and _completely_ freaked.

'I-errr-'

'It's fine.' I repeat, sniggering.

'I hope you're not like this at home? I don't want people to think you were raised –'

'Sorry, sorry…' he says quickly, cringing as his mother lays in to him. It makes me laugh even harder.

'Now what did you want that was so _urgent_?' She demands as he fusses with his shirt collar.

'Carlisle was just looking for you…' He says, looking at me.

'Right?' I answer, frowning. 'Well you can send-'

'Yeah so when you're ready…' he looks pointedly at his mother while she's got her eyes on me. He's literally pointing with his gaze, keeping his mouth shut while I giggle a little more.

'On that note, we'll leave you to it, Dear.' She says, touching my shoulder kindly before glaring at her son. 'Edward?'

I can still hear her telling him off even when they shut the door. So while the entertainment takes place outside, I give myself another once over in the mirror, pout a little to check my lipstick, tape up my tits (it feels super weird) and finally pull on the dress. It looks even better than it did last week and the bag matches the shoes in such a gorgeous way that if she wasn't constantly irritating me I might marry Alice.

Like anyone, I spend a few moment fussing with the straps of my rouge number, pinching the tight fabric, smoothing out any creases from my hips. Grabbing a small bag and rearranging all my casual stuff back into the box my dress was in, I open the bedroom door to find Edward rolling his eyes.

'Oh. Wow.' I say, grinning. He looks so smart now he's fully dressed with his sharp black suit and his skinny red tie matching the material of my dress. His hair looks so neat, too with an Edward-type aftershave burning my nose.

'I was going to say the same thing.' He smiles. 'You look great.'

'Thank you.' I reply, hand immediately going to my hair as I look down to my shoes. They position me just under Edward's height which is good because it means I should be at a good height for Carlisle too. Speaking of. 'Is he…?'

Edward takes my hand from my hair, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he drags me into the hallway, dropping my hand perfectly into Carlisle's. Almost as if... Oh how _silly_. Carlisle's hands are warm but not over warm, comfortable, the cuffs of his shirt covering his wrist with the jewellery catching my eye and sparkling.

I let my eyes come up slowly. He's staying oddly silent, no words coming out of his mouth, no movements, nothing. Until Edward nudges him.

See, Cullen's always gorgeous but now he's made a special effort to look even more immaculate than usual. The red in the tie suits the red of his cheeks and compliments the dark blue of his eyes. This time, his hair stays in place away from his forehead not daring to move. I'm having second thoughts. All this time I was convinced he looked better when he was in a slight disarray but now I just don't know. He's drop dead mouth-watering and the sting of his mint cologne is only enticing me further.

'You've lost weight.' Is the only thing he can think to say. His voice trembles but his tough cough clears it.

Blue flashes to my waist and back to the floor but the frown on his eyebrows is making things difficult to read. It would actually be a very nice compliment- the best kind of compliment to pay to a girl like me really…if he would actually look at me.

I lean on my hip a little, checking myself out with a grin, the flowered sleeve on my right arm looping comfortably just above my elbow where my hair waves.

'Is that a compliment or an insult?' I test. Edward is raising an eyebrow at him as he flounders a little more, the colour glowing against his collar.

'N-neither.' He squints and sighs lowly to himself. When he opens his glittering eyes again, his mouth is smiling and I can't help but match it.

'You look very classy.' He says eventually, his throat thick where he hasn't spoken a proper sentence in a while. Classy is a compliment I guess? It's just not the one I wanted. 'It's very becoming of you.'

Again….avoiding the urge to be offended. He's acting weird. I should probably try make him feel better, so I close some of the space between us and only look at him when I know he's looking at the floor.

'Oh, please shut-up.' Edward groans, hand to his face as I finally force a laugh from myself and lighten up on account of Edward finding it hilarious.

'It's still me.' I say, pointing out the height of my heels and coming to stand at his shoulder. With a sigh, he indicates going downstairs but I pull him back by his arm and, thanks to my new height, lean in closely to his back.

He laughs, first nervously and then properly. He lets Edward go downstairs first, letting the parents have a bit of a moment alone and stopping from me stepping ahead, he's still holding my hand. He's rubbing the other hand against his neck, as if to hide the sweating, eyes up to me, mouth parted.

'What's up?'

'You're beautiful, Esme.'

You've gone mad for the guy…you are mad for the guy… Why are hormones such a suck over?

The words sound even nicer when I haven't just imagined them. But I give him my sweetest smile without even meaning to. It just takes my face unexpectedly to the point where part of me almost feels…shy.

'You too, Carlisle.'

I mean it. But I don't just I mean it for tonight… I mean it for the mornings when he has bed hair, for the unshaven face, for the tired eyes and the scraped knuckles and the tender smile and the grins and the sharp suits and the shoulders and the combed hair and-and… I need to stop before I really do say something insane.

'Honestly.' He whispers, playing a tune on my fingers. 'You take my breath away.'

'Hmm, perhaps I shouldn't dress so mature in the future. I don't want you killing over.'

'I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, I just realised I wasn't saying anything in this massive silence and Edward was staring and I panicked and just started making observations.'

'You're adorable.' I say laughing, nuzzling his cheek while he's postponing going downstairs.

'I'm an idiot.' He confesses, eyes sparkling. 'Hence stupid comments out of stupid mouths. You're gorgeous. Your dress is gorgeous. So is your hair and your shoes and-'

'There's a thing known as going overboard, too.' I remind him, my coloured lips parting to smile. 'But you're very sweet.'

'I'm sorry. I'll be fine in a minute. I'm just-…' he puts his hands towards his head and puffs out his cheeks playfully before dropping it and smiling. My heart is melting.

'Well did you want to her something which might make you feel better?'

'Absolutely.'

'The reason my tits look so good in this dress is because tape is holding them up.'

'Really?' He questions, his usual warm smile finding comfort in resting on his face.

'Take a look at them if you don't believe me.'

'I-'

'Are you guys ready, yet? I want a photo!' Liz calls from downstairs. Carlisle winces playfully, breathing through his nose and tightening his grip on my hand, indicating the steps.

Elizabeth gasps like we're teenagers off to a prom, kisses Carlisle fiercely on the cheek and drags him to stand next to Edward. The kid winks at him when he thinks I'm not looking and smiles crookedly at me.

'Don't you all look marvellous?'

'Please just take the picture.' Edward mutters, ignoring the snickers from senior who is fussing with his bow-tie. 'I don't even understand why we're dressing before dinner anyway. One of us is guaranteed to make a mess.'

'My bets are on you.' I tease. Carlisle chuckles, stepping to my right to pose for the first of many flashing cameras in our eyes. Nevertheless, I snake my arms around the boys, prepared for the light when he jumps, holding a hand to pause us.

'Your earrings.' He explains, patting his pockets and pulling out the little box. Grateful, I take it, eye the beautiful jewels and fix them into my ears so that they dangle close to my neck, their colours shining.

'Do they look okay?' I whisper to him knowing that only he is watching.

He smiles, eyes cast down the side he nibbled on so lovingly and nods his head, gently, his smirk easing up into a genuine smile.

'Eyes up, Carlisle.' Elizabeth mutters and he blushes so hard that he can't help but cover his face while Edward and I laugh a little more. She shows us the photos, my favourite obviously being the one where we're laughing, and squeezes her husband's hand.

* * *

After wasting her phone's memory on our faces, she soon leaves to check on dinner. Thus encouraging Carlisle to show me the rooms we missed earlier which means the library and a large sitting room full of tonnes and tonnes of records from like the 1700s.

I'm fingering the bookshelves, all old leather bound bibles, pulling off a line of dust on the edge of my finger, regretting it when I have nowhere to wipe it off. I click my tongue at him and show him the dirtied digit. He smiles and seats himself on one of the chairs, back standing stiff against the leather and working himself up again. Overthinking in that blonde big-headed brain of his.

The furniture is antique looking and smells so but it doesn't stop it from being any less striking. It's an architect's dream, an interior designer's wish and an artist's desire. So I'm pretty much liquid joy right now.

His eyes turn towards me, watching as I walk towards him, the hem of my dress clinging to my calves when I dramatically swing my thighs a little wider. It catches his attention just enough that he looks at me from head to toe with a smile. Unfortunately he's still pretty uptight. His hands are still fiddling with anything it touches so he almost leaps out of his seat when I place a hand on his shoulder.

'You're going to be fine.' I say, pinching the muscle slightly and becoming over selfish in the feel of his blazer under my hands.

'I know.'

He leans back into the chair and tilts his head in order to stare upwards at my throat. So I sway backwards a little and angle my head so the classic waves of my hair tickles his neck. It's a very intimate and it's not until I'm halfway through doing it that I realise what I'm doing.

The little tiny Alice in the back of my brain can fuck off, this is basically just physiotherapy.

'There's nothing to be nervous about. You know your speech inside out, the unit has already been paid for, Doctor Maddison is going to be here...'

'Exactly. My employer and my father. It's like _asking_ for a disaster.'

Without even meaning to direct it, my hand on his shoulder gropes the muscle a little harder and I follow the line of it to the bottom of his neck against his shirt collar back to the joint of his arm, kneading his skin through the material of his jacket.

I don't want to be touching the jacket, I want to be touching the pale skin of his body all over mine in every way possible.

He exhales and closes his eyes, leaning just enough that I can use to shorter ends of my hair to wisp gently against his lower mouth. He smiles from the sensitivity and bites his lip with sharp white teeth.

'Your attempt to calm me is only making me more nervous.' He confesses, guiltily. The blue orbs shine in my own so I can see my own reflection. It doesn't look like my reflection. It looks like a fucking hot badass seducing her way into his pants. Or maybe his arms. Whichever he's willing to open.

'Sorry,' I whisper, letting my hand pull to a stop before it slips off his jacket.

He continues to look up at me, stalling me with a smirk on his face. 'You didn't have to stop.' He says slowly.

' _Carlisle_?'

We both jump back at the speed of light, me barely catching my balance on this tiny little stiletto of glitter and his whole face draining in colour. Why is it every time I'm with this guy I lose myself to my surroundings?!

'Hi.' Despite his causality, it's not said in the most welcoming manner but I have to tell myself that it's nerves, not because Carlisle is psyching himself up for war.

The stranger looks worse in the flesh than on TV. He's older, and probably looks older than he is but has a dark head of thick black hair and a stern, unfriendly smile. Almost nothing like my pearly saint here. He's dressed in black apart from that little vicar's collar he wears and looks at his son with such a fierce judgement that despite having no clue what Carlisle's done yet, I know it's wrong.

I was wrong before. They don't have similar heights, Carlisle is taller and their eye colour is different with my Saint's a midnight ocean blue and his father's an eerily light. The only similarity there is between the two is the tension and the pale complexion but even that's pushing it since he was in the garden all day. All my hard work a cracking a smile, lost in an instant.

'Typical you're in here. Are you well, my Son?'

Admittedly, I was expecting the older Cullen to be a lot ruder considering his words earlier so the fact that he's being polite is rather uncomfortable. It's also weird how much emphasis he pours on calling him _'my son'_ and every time it hits Carlisle like a stab in the heart. They make an awkward meeting. The saint hanging back slightly while his father is eager to embrace him until they come to a tough handshake. Very tough, it's unwelcoming. And he jumps back from it immediately to stand next to me.

'This is my good friend, Esme Platt. Es, this is Eustace Cullen.'

'Father Eustace. Full names, _my_ Son.'

 _Weird_.

He's already criticising his son's familiarity with my name- so thank fuck we jumped away quick enough to miss where my mouth was heading.

Carlisle locks his jaw. But I hold my hand out and shake the extended wrinkled hand, trying not to look disgusted when he raises my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. I'll say this, they have very different mouths as well. That's not inappropriate is it? Either way my good friend stiffens to marble

'Often dress as so, Miss Platt?'

What?

I offer a tentative smile and steal my hand back, unable to avoid checking myself over. I thought it was pretty? I thought it was classy?! Perhaps it is too much? Oh my fuck it's been three minutes and I've fucked up so bad I want to puke. Maybe Carlisle will give me his jacket if I ask?

'You've just stepped through the door.' Cullen growls, already seeing red and not just in my choice of clothes nor his tie.

'Simply acknowledging the obvious.' He replies, turning back to me. 'Red suits your complexion.'

This is weird so I self-consciously fiddle with my hair to hide my cleavage.

'Carlisle picked it out.' I blurt out and then fucking pulverise myself over when he flinches like I've pulsed electricity through him.

'Did he now?' He questions, staring threateningly.

'The Masen's will be wondering where we are.' Carlisle murmurs, looking briefly at me before eliciting a further distance when he encourages me to make my way accordingly.

As we're walking, Eustace throws a thick hand right onto Carlisle's shoulder and he flinches so hard I think he's going to faint. 'Do not forget your place, _my_ son.'

It's been two minutes and already my stomach is sick in knots.


	46. Reasons why bad habits die hard

_**Hi all. Thanks for your patience and your interest. It's so kind! A long night ahead. I'd love to know what you think, thanks very much!**_

* * *

There's a reason why Liz didn't want me to see this room first. Had I seen it, I would be no comfort to anyone. I, as the dirty art Nerd, would be stood in the large Anglican looking table, the gothic windows high and the drapes and wax candles eerie, positively drooling in my lap. The oak table is fucking massive, one to seat all Lords and Ladies with a lace table cloth on top decorated with crosses. Eustace is seated up the top of the table, Elizabeth to his left close to the window followed by me and then Edward. Opposite Edward sits his father and opposite me is Carlisle. The empty space between the two Cullen's is a deliberate one.

'So tell us, Kid. Getting enough sleep at the hospital?'

'Just.' Carlisle answer wryly, pleased by the distraction of conversation as though we're all one big family and the stranger on the end is a vulture. 'It's been rather hectic the last few days and it's about to get busier, so I hear.'

'You're young. You don't need sleep anyway.' He replies with a guffaw, sharing a pleased look at his Mrs who is still looking between the three of us like we're her idols. As if on cue, reading my thoughts most probably, she opens her mouth.

'It's so nice to finally have you all together in the same room. We've always wondered who on earth they were living with what with the both of them staying indoors all the time.'

'Mom,' Edward whines, frowning at his father who laughs jovially.

'You both could do with a little more sun.' she criticises pinching Edwards pale cheek from behind my shoulders. He fights it off and I snicker.

'We're home birds, that's for sure.' I confirm, grinning.

'That's only because there's no reason to go out.' Carlisle explains, facing Edward's father as he watches me. 'Especially not when you cook.'

'Oh stop bragging.' I laugh, he raises his hand in surrender, a smirk written on his face as he fights to appreciate those present.

'Have you always cooked?' Liz asks, and I'm suddenly getting the feeling we're more alike than what it looks like because she's just as thrilled by the more similarities she finds.

'I try to.'

'Unfortunately, we've been neglected as of recent.' Edward complains, nudging me.

I think that's a reference to the fact that before those three weeks ago I was struggling to do anything that involved making an effort with food. Including eat it. But before that, and even recently, cooking has been quite fun again. Edward Senior snorts, sounding very much like his son when he does so but Carlisle is strangely relaxed enough to come to my rescue.

'Edward's actually been too busy to feed lately. We hardly ever see him at home.' He looks to me to help reinforce the point, and because it's true, I join in with ease.

'Oh _yeah_! He's a _very_ busy guy.'

'I am?' He asks, his voice tight and I think all three of us can share a throwback to the certain brunette that our Romantic isn't quite yet ready to discuss. He reads my expression and nods. His father smiles.

'Composing again, Son?' He guesses proudly.

'I have been actually. It's not ready yet though, so don't get your hopes up.'

Beside me his mother rolls his eyes. 'Will it ever be ready?'

The answer he manages to ignore a little longer, despite the parents prattling and soon enough the comforting sound of our laughter soothes to a contented hum. It's the contented hum which is disturbed. The warm sound of familiarity are cut through with the open blade of the stranger's tone when he leans forward, as if past Liz, to gather specifically my attention.

Carlisle stays very still.

'Tell me about yourself, Esme.' Eustace inquiries from his seat. He leans closer to his son though his son doesn't appreciate the movement according to the flicker on his features. It doesn't feel like a warm invitation, it's more like a command. What kinda aged name is Eustace anyway?

'What would you like to know?' I offer with a smile.

'You're a student, correct?'

'That I am.' I say, jovially. 'Specifically interior design but I have a fascination for-'

'Hm, obviously.' He interrupts, dismissing the excess chatter from my lips. My saint is listening thoughtfully, displeased and rather wary as he calculates the meaning between the words.

'Obviously, Sir?' I question, straightening my cutlery to avoid returning the challenging death stare.

'You lead with your hands.'

It's said with a hint of distaste. I look to my hands, the relatively smooth quality on the surface burdened with a rougher palm from years of creativity. My nails are short but rounded, thanks to Alice. I don't wear any rings and my thumb is still sore from the miniature cut today. My wrist is healing too, but that's not the point.

'Oh… Don't we all?'

'No. But enough of trivial fancies. Tell me something _important_.' Carlisle's jaw tightens, rock solid as he clenches his teeth together. His father continues; 'Where were you baptised?'

'Not relevant.' He mutters, shooting daggers into his father's skull. I feel myself shrinking, taking a careful sip of the water on the table.

'Urm. I'm not actually sure if I am.' A nervous chuckle escapes past my lips and dragging up my posture as if I'm meeting royalty, I try to soften my distrust into a friendly attempt. In all honesty, being sat next to Liz is a blessing, she makes this terribly easy. 'We think so, at least.'

'You ' _think'_ so?' He quotes, using the finger to indicate the indents, chewing the foreign matters in his mouth like he's chewing on snot and blood

For the sake of my saint and the saint only, I swallow the instinct to frown and manipulate it into smile. The Masen's seem just as interested in this answer and realistically, if he wasn't so jumpy, Carlisle would be too. For now, he's a little on edge.

'My parents could never remember.' I explain, tucking a curl behind my ear as I look around the table. 'My dad used to say he suffered with baby brain since I was born and I have five other siblings.'

'I know the feeling.' Senior laughs, appreciating the humour of my quick tale and winking to his wife. It's very sweet. You can almost feel the love in the room. Carlisle smiles warmly at me, his shoe accidently tapping mine under the table.

'That's so lovely! Are you all close? Do you see them a lot?'

It's easy to answer Liz because she finds everything wonderful. It's a shame her son doesn't share the optimism. It would certainly be a lot easier to live with him if he did.

'Well, my eldest brother Henry works at law firm in Illinois. Richard works intermittently overseas and Daniel is a teacher.' Or at least that's what he gets paid to do whether he does the job or not. 'The twins will be starting ninth grade in August back in Ohio.'

I don't really talk a lot about my family, not normally. The kids are evil and the others I hardly see let alone speak to due to commitments and other unresolved issues. But Carlisle seems interested in this point. He's always interested when I open my mouth. It's very flattering.

'A Law firm? What one?' Asks Senior excitedly. Edward rolls his eyes but he's smiling

'I think it's somewhere in Chicago. Something 'Justice'?' I guess, mistakenly. I'm being smirked at but it's not my fault when the company has changed its name like forty times.

'Jefferson's Justice and co?'

'That's it!'

With just the mention of my brother's last name, I've won over Senior's love. Edward's father is excitedly telling me how he helped set up the firm and how clever most of the staff are, though this might just be a way to flatter me. Being my brother, Henry was always going to be a pain in the ass to me.

'Mr Masen is a barrister in Rockford.' Carlisle explains for me, I nod my head recognising the name.

'But originally from Chicago.' Liz tells me proudly and I love the fact that I'm mildly aware of this because of Carlisle. Still, I'm thrilled to listen.

We accidently fall into another nice little chat, brought on more by the five of us rather than Father Eustace's ever reading eyes. He calculates the scene holding everyone's eyes for as long as possible as if trying to reinforce the fact that his son can't ignore him all night. Which he's right about but Carlisle is just uneasy.

It irritates me that we're served by staff but looking at the size of the house, I don't know why I expected any different. Carlisle greets them politely, making quick conversation hoping they are in good health as they place soup bowls in front of us.

An elderly lady shows Father Cullen an aged bottle of red wine which he gives a soft nod to as they fill every glass. Except Carlisle's. No one says anything. Trying to raise my eyebrow is as far as I get but he just shakes his head and hides in his food.

The soup is amazing. It's some vegetable thing which I'm convinced I'm going to hate luckily I don't. It's all really nice. I'm staring at the glass of wine on the table, sharing a look with Edward but he smiles and encourages me to ignore it by inching it just a centimetre closer to his plate. All the while, the head of the table chugs down a good three to four glasses and everything surrounding Carlisle's panic to do with alcohol falls into place.

The shudders of self-disgust pinch at my shoulders.

The second course is even better than the starter but my stomach beneath the tight fabric of this dress is getting tighter and I'm determined not to look pregnant or bloated and so only eat as much as I can. It's good, some expensive steak and potatoes. I've finished my plate and am patiently listening to Edward's explanation to his parents of yesterday's game play.

'So, who won?'

'Who'd you think, Dad?'

He gives a hearty laugh before clapping Carlisle on the shoulder.

'Hard luck, Kid. You know how fast our boy is.'

Carlisle shrugs, smiling and taking a forkful of his food, appreciating it just as much as me. He's almost like normal when his attention is taken. When we can ignore the extra person, he can cope.

'It wasn't just Edward. Es is quite the runner, too. Though I'm _convinced_ they cheated.'

' _Full_ names, Carlisle.' We leave the comment unnoticed.

I shake my head at him and pout.

'Nobody likes a sore loser, Cullen, err, I mean Carlisle.' You know hard it is to call him by his fucking faith name when he's flirting?! Goddamn he is so gorgeous, I couldn't adore him more.

'They asked Alice to shoot left instead of right.' He explains to Mr. Masen who grins in support for the brunettes.

'You still hit the ball though.' I remind him. He didn't just hit it, he hit it exceedingly well. His left hand is talented. So is his right…

'Only _just_. The shot completely threw me.'

'What threw you was your awful coordination. If you hadn't have grabbed my leg, you would've made the run just _fine_.'

He looks at me blankly, amazed I actually told the truth, no more amazed than I am, I'm sure. At least he seems entertained. His father's gruff catches him unaware and distractedly, he stabs something on his plate so it goes flying in my direction and nearly fucking blinds me.

'Bloody hell, Hon. What you trying to do? Decapitate me?!' I say quickly, surprised I managed to survive that attack with no damage, Liz is laughing gently, Carlisle guffawing in shock as the table tries to stay as still as possible.

Wait. Did I just _swear_?!

I cringe inwardly as we wait for a tentative few seconds to debate our response. Carlisle freezes, fighting the unexpected smile. Edward watches. Elizabeth waits a little more and both men frown… until there's a roar of belly laughter from Senior.

'Christ, I am so sorry!' I say quickly, pointing my apologies both to Carlisle, who has allowed himself to grin, and his tight faced father who is frowning. I just called him Hon as well… We're are so screwed. I've fucked it. He's going to kill me and I won't even blame him for it.

Hold on, isn't there some other stuff about taking the Lord's name in vain or whatever?! Is that why he looks like he's about to stab me?!

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Wait, no not _God_. Not Good either. Stop fucking thinking just say _something_! I can feel my cheeks ignite as he turns the penetrating stare of death into me, sending all his little God threats my way in the hope I might burst into flames. Unfortunately for us all, I live.

'Do you often swear so boldly, Miss Platt?'

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.

'Enough.' Carlisle says hotly, glaring to his left before offering an apologetic look my way. I feel guiltier about the fact that he's had to use the tone he's been avoiding all evening. I'm the worst, I swear. Kill me, kill me, just fucking kill me….

'My grandfather was a seamen.' I joke, shrugging a little. Edward stiffens next to me and I'm about to silence him with a nudge when I realise. Seamen. Semen.

'SAILOR!' I correct in a shout. 'HE WAS A _SAILOR_!'

Now the kid joins in with his father's laughter, both of them howling in delight while I think of all the quickest ways to kill myself.

The plates are taken away from us and although we mutter our awkward thanks, the stranger doesn't acknowledge his staff. The same elderly woman has come round with the wine bottle again and draining my water as quick as possible, I grab the wine glass and raise it to the bottle, thanking her for filling it. Edward looks sadly at me and I'm just about to take a sip when I'm being spoken to again.

'Any other bad habits you wish to disclose?' He questions, watching me shrivel up and die like a fucking maggot grape.

'I said _Enough_!' Carlisle growls, finally turning to his father and shaking his head in warning.

It takes me a while to notice his cheeks are pink but that's because I'm glaring at the table cloth. I thank the poor slave girl for the top up but place the glass in front of me. Without a second thought, Carlisle swaps his water with it.

Firstly I assume Edward has outed me, and prepare myself to jab him for it, but I'm immediately corrected at the similar look of confusion on Master Masen's face. That's just when he swaps the glasses. When he actually raises it to his mouth I almost fucking fall out my chair as does Edward. He's _drinking_?! He's drinking alcohol?! Oh my Fucking God, we've corrupted him.

Jasper was wrong, this isn't fun at all. I feel sick with worry.

'You know as _my_ son you're forbidden to drink.' His father reprimands. My flinch occurs in time with Carlisle's.

'Don't serve it then.' he replies bitterly, sharing a look with Edward before ignoring my questioning gaze.

I attempt to align my foot to his and it almost works. The contorted features of uncontrollable anger dissipates when looks to me; softening, almost lifting the corner of his lips up to that smile. At his cough, Carlisle looks to his father who is glaring, snarling almost, in warning. The combination of the anger, the humiliation and the tense atmosphere pushes him over the edge and in one quick swoop he _drains_ the glass, jumps up and throws his napkin to the table before storming out.

Elizabeth watches him go sadly, sharing a miserable look with her husband who stares glumly at his plate.

'Excuse me.' I start, pushing my chair out. She acts quickly to stop me by turning and narrowing her eyes.

'Go after him.' She demands. He rolls his eyes lazily towards us, all waiting for him to do something. It takes him ages to even sigh.

'If he's man enough to drink, he's man enough to grow up.'

'That's not-' I find myself saying, to my left Edward takes my hand, silencing my own mouthy temper with a gentle look. He's right. If I fuck it up any more, I've screwed things over big time.

'That is your _Son,_ Eustace. Go after him before it's another two years and that's _if_ you're lucky!' She hisses, her mouth and her jaw locking just like Edward's does when he's angry.

He's about to respond, to return an equally sour reply. However, he changes his mind, throwing the napkin down and glaring at me fiercely.

'He'll see sense eventually… He'll be done with such incorrigible vices soon enough.' To finish, he storms off as quick as lightning, slamming the door on the way out and leaving us all in a premature silence.

Regardless of the genuine pitiful insult, the glare of his eyes as he refers to me as _incorrigible_ is enough to make me want to ball my eyes out. Even if he is an asshole… it _could_ be the truth. If Carlisle really wanted forgiveness, religious forgiveness too...it's no secret that _I'm_ standing in the way of that. Temporary is not a term I like for myself. _Vice_ isn't either.

It suddenly occurs to me how grateful I should be in comparison. At least I had one parent to defend me while he still could. And failing him, I had my brothers… Carlisle didn't. It was just him.

Elizabeth isn't his mother.

The narrow hand squeezes around mine a little tighter and I suddenly realise I'm staring, my mouth falling open.

'Don't listen to-' Liz starts to say but I push out my chair, gently this time, and force a smile.

'I'm going to get some fresh air.'

'Es?' Edward asks, standing up behind me but I'm already pushing past.

* * *

The springtime sun should be growing darker now we're hitting dusk. Instead it's roasting on my skin and face through every tall window as I try to find my way outside. There's so many rooms, so densely packed and so full of clutter and decorations and beauty. My palms are starting to sweat, my head hurting as I breathe heavily.

Relief floods into my veins when my palms clap on the glass of the backdoors and pushing through them, I take several moments to breathe the sting of hay fever through my nose and pretend that I'm perfectly fine. It helps, kind of. My head is hurting, I'm feeling incredibly guilty and there's a feeling in my stomach which is more uncomfortable as time goes on.

With a stiff inhale, I pull my heels off and let the fresh grass soothe my feet as I head towards the little river. It feels better around here and not just because I'm in the shade but more because I'm cooler and can be hidden from sight without worry.

Maybe I've got a Vicodin in my bag. Probably not but any kind of tablet will do, even-... oh, wow. It's been so long since I've cleared out this bag. I've got a condom in here and a cigarette! I shouldn't, I _really_ shouldn't but the thought of the way he glared at me, how embarrassed Carlisle was, how over-the-top I was… for fuck sake I called him _Hon_. I pet named him in front of them all.

It wasn't Carlisle wearing his heart on his sleeve. It's _me_.

My hands move automatically and telling myself, I'll only inhale once, I light up and take at least three. There's something better about smoking and blaming that for all my problems. At the very least I know none of them will get me smashed. I roll my foot along the floor, along the fresh soil with the setting sun catching what it can of my calves, letting my hair fall over my shoulders and a cloud of ghostly poison rise from my lips.

'Hi.'

' _Fuck_.' I leap a few feet, clutching a hand to my chest as I take a few minutes to realise its Carlisle. My eyes skim to my right hand where I'm holding another vice between two fingers, the smoke flowing up slightly. 'Carlisle, I… This isn't…'

 _Fuck_.

He doesn't say much, just stays standing next to me, looking as perfect as ever in his suit. His blazer is still neat, his tie straight against his stomach and his gorgeous hair without one imperfection. He raises a stiff, unimpressed eyebrow at me, indicating my choice and reaches for the cigarette.

'I was going to put it out anyway…' I murmur, handing it to him as guilty as sin. He frowns, takes it from my grip and with two fingers and puts it to his lips. His inhale is rich with experience and he whistles the grey from his pout in a way to make it slip in the rhythm to the light breeze.

My jaw drops. It's perfect looking as if he's so used to the feeling of… _oh_. He pulls up his shoe, puts out the light on his back heel and breaks the stick in half to put in his pocket.

'You've done that before.' I realise, a little shocked. He nods, blowing out the last of the smoke and offering a bit of a smile before turning towards the river and focusing only on that.

'It's a pretty sight, isn't it?'

'Yeah.' I feel even guiltier at how in love I am with the open space and watch my feet, trying not to think about how sexy smoking actually is.

'Just think, two weeks earlier and I could've lived here instead…'

'What?' I say with a guffaw.

'I was in the process of buying the property. The rooms are too huge, the kitchen is far too dark for my liking but I fell in love with the garden.'

'It's expansive.' I agree. 'You could do so much. Flowers, walkways…a greenhouse? Maybe even a fountain?'

He smiles, tilting his head towards me as I encourage him on with a nod.

'Anyway, it came down to the last two weeks. _Someone_ outbid me and I didn't see any reason to fight him.' He passes me, crouching down to the river and pulling out a dead weed or two to float along the water. _'That_ was two years ago.'

'And that's why you didn't speak?' I assume, gently coming towards him and crouching too. He looks at my dress, blue eyes swimming with words that he's patient to discuss until now. They're wide, urgent and a little wild looking though his voice would never convey such blasphemy.

'Like I said there were plenty of other reasons.' He takes my hand, opens it up flat with the palm up. 'Firstly, I didn't know if you would've followed.'

'I wouldn't have been able to afford it.' I admit.

'That's what I assumed you would say, and I knew you'd never allow for me to cover the bill indefinitely. I also didn't want to drag you into all this mess. Little did I know that here we would stand.'

'Or squat.' I correct playfully.

His smile eases up, playing on my fingers as he fixes himself, almost on one knee. The downside to this dress is that it would never let me get down that far meaning he has to look up at me, the ends of my hair drifting close to his face because that's what every fibre of my being wants. To be next to him.

'When I said a few days ago…' He begins delicately, his voice trembling in what I first assume is guilt but quickly becomes nerves.

'It's not _your_ fault, Hon. Edward and you warned me. _I_ wasn't thinking'

'No, no.' He interrupts, smiling. 'I was talking about sex before marriage as a kind of... _momentary_ statement. That its beauty is in its temporality, kind-of-thing.'

Was he saying that?

'I remember.' I say, obviously. I go to close my hand but he keeps it open for the moment, watching my face with a smart smile.

'I'm a lot more religious than you think I am…'

'Oh really?' I challenge, raising an eyebrow. He nods thoughtfully.

'Even when I came to Chicago and picked up a few bad habits… I prayed every night. I still do. Try my best to go to Church when possible which, admittedly, is hardly ever and I firmly believe in certain concepts. Forgiveness is one... so is heaven?' He takes a deep, heavily broken breath... ' _Marriage_ is another…'

'What are you saying?' I whisper, playfully confused, leaning close to his shoulder. He buries one hand a little more into his inside pocket, producing the same black satin jewellery box from my earrings. My heart leaps to my throat.

'We've really changed in these three weeks, huh?'

'I guess…' I whisper, slowly. My whole hands starts to shake. My body quivering as I fear those dangerous words from his mouth. I fear them... and _crave_ them.

'There's a commitment in marriage. But there's a commitment in sex, too. A kind of openness when you declare to share yourself with someone.'

'Carlisle…'

'My love…'

I feel my face flush, my hands sweat even more when I try to grip onto his hand for support but he opens it up again and leans to kiss my palm. My only instinct is to cry. Every instinct is telling me to sob because I don't want this to be happening but at the same time there's nothing I need to hear more.

It's frightening how desperately I want those words.

'Did I mention how beautiful you are?'

My hand flinches, heart too, and nearly closes when I remember to keep it open as he asked. I'm shuddering, even with the sun in my hair and skin.

'For being so patient…' He commends, with a grin. He thumbs the box, pinching it before placing it on my open hand. 'I believe in commitments, Esme.'

Sounds and words are stuck in my throat.

'And my commitment to you is to be honest, more honest than I have been, completely open for once… and to do my best to ensure not only your safety but your infectious, untroubled, blissful _happiness_ , too. For as long as you'll have me…'

'Carlisle.' I beg, crumbling inward as more emotions rise to the top of my face.

'I lied. Admittedly, it wasn't intentional but I still did it. I said I wouldn't ask anything of you. To some extent I thought I could get away with it. Like when you set yourself a goal and once you've announced it you can't go back on it?'

'I understand.' I try to say but it's difficult to hear myself over the rush of blood in my ears. My legs, and my head for that matter, feel incredibly faint.

'Open it.'

To confirm himself, I have to read his expression. His eyes are so smooth, so loving and… _terrified_.

I try not to but he's looking at me so warmly and for as much as I shouldn't want it, especially after three weeks… There's something about him that I trust. I trust that he's being honest, that even if he's not harm was not a thing that could be easily delievered by someone like him. I trust that he will always do his best to keep my safe. I know he would make me happy. I _know_ he is my happiness...

What if I said yes?

Is that _so bad_ after three weeks?

If that's what I want, how can I ever say no? How can I face every moment of my life knowing that there is no one who will make me a better person than him. There is no one that I'd want more to… love.

Loving him would be so easy. Like taking a breath. Like blinking. It'd be unconcious, spontaneous. Effortless.

My hands steady when I open the lid, the shine glittering into my eyesight as a desperate choke leaves my throat.

It's a key.

Oh my God, I actually thought he was going to propose? I legitimately thought Carlisle Cullen was going to propose to me?! After three weeks?! And all that drama in there?! I thought he was going to ask for marriage.

… I nearly said yes. I nearly promised my whole life to him. In a heartbeat?

I could've done it. I could have _married_ him.

'Say something.' He urges with a tense laugh.

'It's a key.' I say. He nods, grinning. It takes for that to remind me it's the second time he's housed a key in a jewllery box. I obviously didn't think he was proposing to me when he housed my car keys a few years ago. Why on Earth did I think he was _now_?

'Move in with me, Esme?'

 _What_?!

'But I already live with you?' I say, my laugh coming out in a half snort. How much wine did he actually drink back there? He's smiling, maybe a little flushed.

'There's a house in Washington. It's huge, beautiful... in the _sweetest_ town…'

'Carlisle…' So I can consider marrying the guy but moving is way off the mark? That's a nice bout of hysteria. The sudden mention of hysteria acts quickly and before I can second guess my instincts, I realise I'm freaking out. All the while he's looking less playful. 'What about your _job_? You're training to become a surgeon.'

'I can transfer.' He explains with a grin. 'Once my exams are done then I can work locally. The hospital are desperate for staff and I feel like I could really make a difference-'

'Hon. Please.' I beg, covering my mouth with a hand. 'What about Edward? What about Jasper?'

I don't know why Jasper has sprung to mind but it frightens me how quickly he can answer it.

'Jasper's a philosophy major with an extensive background in history- he'd find plenty of jobs.'

'You're not making any sense.' I say sternly. 'What about _me_ , Carlisle?'

'It's perfect, Esme. Right on the town's outskirts with so much history and opportunity and-'

'You're _moving_ and you didn't even think to tell me?' I say suddenly, worried for the risen octaves of my voice. He's not listening.

'This new house… it's better. Its beautiful, open to use and it's _all_ paid for.'

'You think that makes me feel better?' I hiss, standing up to step away from him. He looks hurt but not surprised. It's almost like he knew about this. Like he was waiting for his father to fuck up so he could just use it as his excuse. 'I don't want your generosity.'

'Tell me what you want?' He asks, gripping my hand.

'Are you kidding me? I've only _just_ received a scholarship. I finally have a _reason_ to live in this shitty city. What about Alice and Emmett? Did you think of them?'

'Emmett dropped out.' He explains knowingly. My stomach falls to my feet. The panic in my gut is rising and all of a sudden I get the feeling he's serious. This isn't light hearted at all. He's genuine. 'He's been failing his classes since December and Alice hates it here.'

'That's bullshit.'

'She's been wanting to travel for months. She was away for the whole summer.'

'Go on then, accuse me of being a shit-friend. I never noticed these things, huh? Well, I _know_ Edward's not going to go anywhere since Bella-'

'My love…'

 _'Don't_.' I warn with a growl, my hand cutting through the air. 'Don't go there when after four years, four _years_ , and these three weeks you are going to leave me…'

'I would never leave you, Esme.' He promises, standing up. 'And as for Bella... her grandparents are really sick. She wants to support Charlie. Edward wants to transfer, too.'

'So everyone is just up and going?!'

'No.' He insists softly, wiping his face. 'Just transferring... He was thinking on it before Bella. He hates his lessons, Es. He's been wanting to compose since he could _hear_ and there's this programme _made_ for him-' He sees this flurry of explanation isn't helping and has to reign himself in. 'As for the others...Emmett and Rose want to move in together while Rose does an internship...'

'Well what about _us_?' I croak. The grass under my feet is the only safety I have. For now I feel sick and I wish I had another cigarette. Maybe seventeen more.

'That's why I'm asking…' He turns back to look at the house briefly before shaking his head to dismiss the distraction.

'How long have you been wanting this?' I ask, my hands gripping the box with uncertainty.

'A while.'

'Honesty, Carlisle.' I remind him tartly. 'Start by honouring your word.'

He flinches, rightly so and puts his hand to the back of his neck. 'A year or so…but I finalised the paperwork a week ago.'

Completely involuntarily, I gasp, my hand going to my diaphragm while I hold the box slightly away from me.

'A _week_? You didn't think to tell me this before I had my hands around your cock?!'

'Esme, _please_.'

'How about the _months_ before that? Forget this month, forget all that's been said, all that we've given each other. What about _before_?'

'At what point was I meant to tell you?' He groans, clutching his pink neck. 'We work in opposite schedules. You were never home.'

'So you just thought you'd kick me out?!'

'I was never going to kick you out. _Ever_. Even if _I_ moved out solo, that house would still be yours. Jesus, Esme. I don't think you realise how much it hurt living with you until three weeks ago.'

'Living with me?! This isn't even about your father? It's about _me_?!'

He moves towards me, arms up in surrender but I tear my hands out of his reach, still gripping onto that box.

'Of course it's about _him_. I don't want to spend another moment here and I sure as hell don't want him anywhere near _you_.' He speaks quickly, enough that I know he's been thinking this for a while. A whole long while. I'm going to be sick. 'It's about protecting you.'

'You said living with _me_ hurts.' I repeat, jabbing a finger towards him.

'I said it _hurt_. Past tense.' He explains, failing to sound anything but explicitly weak. He's tempted to touch his hair, to wrench his hand through his locks to prove his frustrations but he doesn't.

'What have I ever done to hurt you?' I rage, the box almost bleeding into my hand as I fight to grip onto it. I can't let go. It's the only thing that I'm incapable of damaging. Even the grass beneath me is failing to support me. He stays standing, attempting to come towards me, his movements gentle but the betrayal stings and the closer he gets, the worse it feels.

'For starters you said you felt sorry for me- that hurt.'

'What did you expect me to say?! I kissed you and you freaked.'

'And haven't we already established _why_ I freaked?'

'Then why is it an issue?!' I demand, closing my mouth the moment I'm done speaking because I don't want him to dare think the breaths from my mouth are anything to do with the fact that he's winning. It wouldn't matter if I was balling my eyes out. He isn't winning.

But I am close to balling my eyes out.

'I never said it was. I was just stating it _hurt_.'

'If that's what you're thinking how about the time you turned me down? _All_ the times you turned me down? Every single time you've turned me down, you don't think _that_ hurts?'

'Well isn't it better than the one time, I didn't?'

'That's not fair.' I say quietly, feeling my heart pound and my posture threaten to crumble. 'I thought you _wanted_ me.'

'Of course I wanted you. I always want you and will forever want you and not _briefly_ because of some damn hormones-'

'How can you stand there and say that after accusing me of hurting you?!'

'I never meant to infer it was intentional.' He unlocks his jaw, swallows thickly and tries again to come towards me. I'm still cold to him and with an understanding nod, he doesn't just stay still, he backs away a little.

'Is this why you're mad at me?!' He _has_ to be mad if he wants to leave...

'I'm not mad at _you_. I'm mad at every bastard who has taken your attention away for a moment. I'm mad that it's taken me four fucking years to have this conversation and I'm mad that I let us grow used to a life here. I'm mad that you're hurt by arseholes and continuing to be hurt by people of my own bloodline and I'm mad that I didn't ask you sooner.'

'That's anger, that's not being hurt.' I correct sourly. His reply is broken.

'I'm _hurt_ you couldn't see it, Esme.'

He sighs, stroking his tie down his stomach to straighten it out even though I've seen right angles more curvy than that material. My right hand is still pressed against my diaphragm, the left still gripping onto my gift in case he dares to snatch it away from me.

The soil and dirt now cling to sweaty palms like metal to magnets but I appreciate the fact he's not concerned by my fondness of nature. He doesn't even tell me off about the grass on my toes. He stands to me like an equal.

'Why are you asking me _now_?'

Despite our stances his eyes go unthinkingly my hip, caught on the thought of my bruised ass with a pure inability to hide such concerns. My head is spinning.

'Because if I'd have asked you a month ago, you would've said no.'

'That's not true.' I say, shaking my head so a curl sways by my cheek. 'A month ago I wouldn't have second guessed it. _You_ asked me to sign up for the scholarship. Do you remember that? _You_ blackmailed me into seeing Doctor Browning and have made extra effort to ensure I see and hang out with the girls. You've made me start a life here, it's not fair for you to expect me to give all that up…'

'I would never expect you to…' He says, lips tightening even though he tries to offer a smile.

'So you're just going to go, is that it? Up and out because you can't bear to stay…' I'm nearing the danger zone again and I know this because I have to put my hand to my mouth again to stop a cry escaping. My eyes are watering but I'm doing my best to blink the moisture away. Even as we stand, I don't want to seem unattractively ugly for him.

He shakes his head, sadly.

'What if we hadn't had these three weeks?' I ask, voiceless. 'You just would've left without saying a word?'

'I _can't_ answer that…' He whispers. Mistakenly I assume this is out of fear of offending me. Not because he literally cannot _pain_ himself to think of the suggestion.

'You can't answer that?!' I repeat, again verging near hysterical. 'I thought at the very least you were my _friend_ , Carlisle! You couldn't even tell me you were going?'

'I would've told you…'

'You would've had plenty of time! How about every weekend when I would jump bed with you? What about baseball every two weeks? What about dinner or breakfast or lunch? What about when I pay you rent? How about in the middle of an argument with Edward?'

'Hon, _please_.'

'Would you have text it?'

'Of course not!' He swears, sounding once again quite stern as he struggles with the way he wants to be. He wants to be angry and hurt and frustrated and pleased and concerned but he's a mixture of all of them. 'I honestly wouldn't have thought you cared.'

'Excuse me?'

'Es, if I'd known we had any chance of being where we are now, I wouldn't have done half the things I have. I never expected for you to like me and despite the obvious, I never expected to fall- to fall…'

'Fall?' I push, still somewhat angry but he stutters and lets the words die.

'It's your choice, completely.' He swears, softening his expression even more.

'None of it is my choice. You're moving, do you think I would've chosen that?!'

'If you don't want me to go, I won't go.'

Again, it's a selfless offer but that only hurts more. 'I can't ask you to stay either, it's cruel…'

'I wouldn't think of anything else if you wish to stay. I wouldn't choose to go anywhere without you.'

'But you _did_.' I retort, quietly. 'You bought a second house.'

I grip the box, pulling it to me and touching the edge before opening it again. The shine of the silver key catches my eye and before I can stop myself I pull it out of the box and feel in edges. But something catches my eye. An inscription which I catch quite read. Angling the key in the sun, the shine flows over the letters like calligraphy.

 _A worthy cause_.

The box tumbles to the floor as I stay holding the key until I feel brave enough to look at Carlisle. I don't think I've ever noticed how permanently drained he always seemed until now and that's only because the look has vanished. He's at peace with himself to some extent. He's relieved.

A _worthy_ cause. Una degna causa...

'I don't deserve it, I know I don't but… please… Forgive me?' He asks brokenly, tainting his look of misery with his blue waves of crushing faith.

Something else takes over, maybe the fear, of not waking up every morning with him, not teasing or complaining when I need it the most. Of _losing_ him.

I throw my arms around his neck, crushing myself to him as tightly as possible and relishing the security of his gentle arm around my waist. I kiss him sweetly on his cheek, my breath catching when he manoeuvres to touch my lips to his.

He lowers me down to my feet again, stroking the curls of my hair as they slip to where my rose sleeves are hanging.

'You don't have to answer me now, Esme. I want you to see the place first...'

I'm not sure exactly what that means but his patience is certainly needed. I don't know if he is really thinking of moving or where or when… to be honest, any kind of change to how we are now is making my head spin. So I ignore it for a little longer.

'Can I hold on to it?' I ask, playing with how it catches the sun with my focus on those perfect words.

'It's yours…'

There's something even more heart-breaking about knowing it belongs to me. It means he's quite literally welcoming me into his future, he's asking for commitment. But the thought of giving up our current home hurts my heart. That and it's a big move. Three weeks to four years. Asking me to move in with him… _with_ him… Already, too.

'What did he say?'

'My father?' He guesses, frowning. I nod, still holding onto the key without knowing exactly where to put it. He shrugs, smiling slightly. 'Nothing, I didn't see him.'

'I'm sorry for making a fool out of myself.'

'You didn't in the slightest.'

'I called you _Hon_.' I remind him with a groan, covering my face slightly. He lightens up enough to chuckle. 'In front of all of them…'

'I was flattered.' He promises, winking.

'The amount of trouble you're going to be in… I'm so sorry.'

'Please don't be… though I am sorry I stole your drink.'

I'd nearly forgot about that until now and thinking back to him draining the glass suddenly makes a whole lot of sense to the cigarette. Speaking of smoking, I grab his tie and pull his chest to my nose so I hear his confusion. He smells fine, like warmth and cleanliness that's ever so refreshing

'We were smoking.' I explain for purpse of his confusion.

'Oh… right… I'd appreciate that if you'd not mention that to Edward…'

'Feeling guilty, my love? ' I tease, grinning a little.

'No but… well I actually _did_ give up…' He says, cheeks close to a blush.

'So did I.'

'Exactly. Perhaps we should avoid those bad habits? At least the ones proven to reduce life-span.'

His hand moves to hold my own, brushing the soil away with his fingers before he remembers I'm bare foot. In which case, he crouches to the floor, takes my right shoe and secures it onto my foot.

'Look at that. A perfect fit.' He says, grinning.

'Wow. Out of all the women in the land, who would've expected me?' I continue to play, holding onto his shoulder as he fixes my other shoe for me. The tips of his fingers slide up my ankle for just a second, making me shudder.

'It was obvious, really. I should never have doubted it.' He replies watching the shy turn of my head, letting the waves of my thick hair curve and bounce as I lean with a hand on my hip. 'You're _beautiful_.'

'You really are holding out for that Charming role, aren't you?' I say, clicking the heels together and holding his hand tightly in mine.

'I think if I drink anymore I really will be laying it on thick. Thicker than it is now. One glass in and I can barely stop looking at you to walk…'

Despite the threat of the key, I laugh, squeezing his hand in mine and winking so that his grin turns shy.

'Esme... I am so sorry I kept this from you…'

'I understand.' I answer, honestly. '… But… not tonight?' It's a matter we can put in a box and ignore for now… for a while maybe.

'I'm not going anywhere.' He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles. 'Not without you at the very least…. If you'd like, of course.'

'That glass has really hit you hard, huh?' I play, leaning into his side and holding onto his hand tightly. He surprises me in falsely stumbling, wrapping an arm around me and hauling me gently to him.

'I'm so intoxicated that… oh. Oh no. Your lips... my kryptonite?' He kisses me perfectly, his laughter sweet on my tongue when he kisses me again.

'We're _going_ to get caught.'

'Sorry…' he chuckles, blushing slightly but with another laugh, I drag him into the formality of the house and straighten myself out, too.

'I should make my apologies to The Masen's….'

'I'm sure they understand,' I comfort. He gives me an embarrassed look again and returns to the route of the corridors with me at his side.

* * *

Obviously, apologies aren't needed. Mr and Mrs Masen give him words of empathy and support. Edward claps him on the shoulder and I don't leave his side. That's when the guests start coming in. _Father_ Eustace still hasn't returned from his attic. So we play host for a very long time but there's so many people and so much smiling and so many dresses and greetings and jewellery and lights and flowers and cars and-

'Cullen!' Announces an aged and friendly voice. I expected it anyway so I don't really why I'm so pleased to see Doctor Maddison. Maybe because I want him to persuade Carlisle that here is better than it looks. Maybe... I'm trying to persuade myself…

'It's great to see you, Sir.' He greets warmly, fidgeting with the lapels on his blazer as he stands to reintroduce me. 'You remember-'

'Of course, of course. How are you doing, Miss Platt?'

'Holding up.' I say with a grin.

'I've heard there's free champagne and I've already drunk far too much. In fact, you'll have to have a drink with me.'

'I, err,-. I'm not really…'

'You need to take a night off.' He says, shaking his head. 'You work too hard. Anyway, I'll see you in there.'

I turn to Carlisle, my face splitting into another grin. 'He's right, you know.'

'I do hope you're not _trying_ to get me intoxicated.'

'What could possibly be the benefits of that?' I ask, feigning offence. A warm smile lightens up his cheeks and once again, stealing a catch of my waist, he averts his eyes to the next onslaught of guests we have to greet.

'You're fidgeting.' He says playfully, smile never moving as he continues to greet strangers on the doorstep and lead them to the dining room for the time being.

The staff were generous enough to help clean it and it's looking very posh but I want to see where the band is in one of the back rooms. I also think I need another glass of that wine that was stolen from me. Even if it's just a prop.

'I'm not fidgeting- you're fidgeting.'

'I'm nervous.' He whispers quietly, his blue eyes doing more of a leaping dance than his smirk is.

'And I'm in high heels.'

More shaking of hands, more directing them …more _smiling_. Hell, my cheeks hurt.

'You don't have to stay with me.' He knows me far too well that every time I hear a chord play, my head turns and I'm desperate to get an idea of what's on the set list tonight.

'I know.' I sing, trying to make myself even more appealing by tilting my body towards his. He rolls his eyes.

'Go on, go and wander about somewhere.'

'I don't _need_ your dismissal.' But by God I want it, I'm so bored with the amount of people skipping past and fanning over my Charming. My saint. My Carlisle. I can't stand it. Even when I know he's being polite. There's so many people falling in love with him and I hate it.

'I know,' he says, smiling wider. 'But you're bored. Its fine, I'll see you before the speech.' I look back towards the music again and turn back, hesitating. But he's gesturing me for take my leave. 'Honestly, my Love.'

'Alright, alright, I'm leaving.'

While there's a lack of people coming through the doors, he leans towards me and lays a cute, chaste kiss on my mouth. I try to linger but he pulls away too quick, not willing to smudge the lipstick. He's not looking shy as I expected him to be, but I'm looking a little bewildered.

'We're in public?' I remind him, frowning in concern. It only instigates a proud smile on his face.

'I know.'

Oh. Moral support and that. Maybe I should've just kissed him on the cheek… Though the fact he couldn't help himself... how open he is willing to be... My cheeks inflame in a very natural, yet nevertheless pleased, blush.

'I-I'd better... I'd better...' I start to stammer as a few people catch our very close proximity... I jab a thumb behind me and shove my eyes to my heels but with a very encouraging smirk, he uses tilts my face up to look at him with a finger under my chin. Blue burning eyes.

I'm blushing harder and that's only down to the confident, unafraid smile that I'm trying to lean into. I can taste the mint across my face when he speaks.

'Third door on the right.'

* * *

On following his directions, not only do I find myself in a huge hall with bright lights, ceiling to floor narrow Windows and the stage I painted earlier, I also find the band and even better. A bar. So I make a whiskey, that I fail to drink and make the loud walk to the stage, leaning against it with a hip and make idle chatter

'Get playing.' Eustace calls simply and shuts the door again barely giving me a seconds grace even though I clearly stand out from their white outfits in my sharp red.

 _Nothing_ like his son.

I wait around, I have a little sway before, like a flock of man eating insects, people start to flood in through the doors, looking in awe at the details on the ceiling, making greetings to each other, pointing out the band. So I take a seat at the bar, where the waiter has finally taken his space, and pretend to drink my whiskey even though I haven't touched it since I made it.

I'm thinking about Carlisle's offer again. Even if he took it back, I knew he had every reason to move, especially since _meeting_ his father. Similarly, I know I have little to keep me here apart from comfort. But moving in with him. I want it, I can't say why I want it more than anything. I _want_ to be living with him.

Three weeks isn't enough time to decide to move in with someone.

But three _years_ is.

When have we ever fallen out over something concerning morality or way of living? It's mainly just been through acts of protection or care... and maybe the occasional lie. We've both spent time complaining about the property, too; the walls, the lack of space, the construction, the design.

It's home, though and the memories we've had there... I never assumed I was going to live anywhere except with him. I had no reason to move.

Perhaps his is good enough?

Edward takes the seat next to me, smiles but says nothing. His parents are at a table in front sitting with Eustace. It looks like Edward Senior is reprimanding him, but he's not listening. It's that infuriating, I don't even realise I'm glaring until Edward points it out.

'Did he tell you what they argued about?' he murmurs to me.

I'm keeping an eye out for our saint but he's still greeting people. The room is packed, every round table surrounding the dance floor is full of people and suits and glasses and dresses, and giggling. He looks marvellous.

'They didn't. He didn't see him.'

I'm watching Edward watch Carlisle thoughtfully. I don't know what he's thinking but he looks puzzled with his frown itching low on his forehead. With a sigh, I open my bag and show him the key. Just like Carlisle, several tonnes of weight shift through him, his shoulders lower and his smile is neither uncomfortable nor frustrated. It's the most relaxed I've seen him in months.

Like when he plays.

'He _finally_ told you.'

I nod, my blush taking over the make-up when I close the bag again.

'What do I do?' I whisper, eyeing the gorgeously friendly grin of my sweetheart as he makes an effort to be interested in everybody and I mean, everybody. He's swamped with attention.

'Do you love him?'

'Edward!' I gasp, my mouth falling open as I look at him in horror. 'How can you _ask_ that? It's only been-'

'It's only been _four years_.' He says, taking my prop from me and sipping it. He makes a face, shudders and sips it again with a more neutral expression.

'You _can't_ ask that!'

'I just did.' He says with a proud shrug.

'But- but…'

'Are you alright? You've gone pale?' He suddenly looks concerned, and pulling himself upright he grabs a menu from the bar and waves it in my face.

'That's not something you just _know_ …' I choke.

'Chill out.' He complains with a condescending snort. 'I only asked if you loved him, not if you were _in love_ with him?'

'Dude!' He orders me a glass of ice cold water, hands it to me and bites back a laugh when I press it to my forehead. 'Is he looking?'

'Yes.' He says sarcastically, green eyes rolling. 'I can't see from this angle but probably.'

'What do I do?'

'What do you _want_ to do?'

'Will you stop it?!' I whine, draining the cooling water. 'Just advise me on what to do. I can't lose him, Edward.'

'Then there's the answer...' He mutters. Though he quickly questions it too and raises an eyebrow before he makes the mistake of continuing that sentence. 'You won't lose him, Esme.'

'Can you promise me that?!' I ask, disbelievingly. He unloosens my grip from his arm and laughs.

'I can guarantee it.' He's still looking at the table near the stage, keeping an eye out, like me, for the real host of this evening. 'You remember what I said, though. If it's too soon for you…'

'Is it _too_ soon?' Because now he's said four years I'm suddenly comforted in the realities of moving. It's almost expected to move… Isn't it?

'Don't let him fuck it up?' He repeats, obviously.

'He's not… _I_ am…'

'You're harder on yourself than you realise. He's human. He makes mistakes, too. So what if this is one of them?'

Hearing Edward suggest Carlisle's affections as a mistake stings my pride in a very thorough and consuming manner… A pain I doubt I've ever felt before.

'Why aren't you sitting with your parents?' I distract, fiddling with the ice in my glass, aligning it with the honey gloop of his.

'Because I'm sitting with you.'

Looking at his expression, you can see he's glaring at exactly who I was glaring at but every so often, a knowing smirk appears on his face and he shakes his head so condescendingly that I'm tempted to hit him and demand for the answer he is so clearly thinking of. After a good thirty minutes of greetings, with me and Edward clawing our fucking eyes out waiting for something to happen, a nervous a flighty smile is spread across my Saint's face and breathing in, he looks towards the microphone, shifting past the buzz of people and fiddling with his tie.

Carlisle takes the steps to the stage, gives a brief greeting to the band who stop playing and stands nervously in front of the microphone.

Like a newbie, he taps it a few times, makes a silly joke which the hall laugh at and all smiles and pink cheeks, he welcomes everyone to the evening, invites them to take a drink and a dance and offers the best hospitality there is to offer.

He's a cutie. He mentions it all, the current Neo-Natal units running in Alaska, examples from family A and family B, specific donors both money and organs and he keeps a room of about 200 plus people totally engrossed in everything he says.

The speech is a success and not just because he's sweet enough that it has my heart racing, because I'm incredibly proud.

'If I could just hold your attention for a moment longer.' He calls, packing up the cards in his hands, shuffling them and putting them aside. 'I think like many here, I have a purpose to lend my gratitude to all who have helped set up this fundraiser and furthermore the unit itself. In just eighteen months we have managed to do the impossible and have spared the heartache of many families. But we've had some losses, too and none of them get easier to face.'

He takes a deep breath, smiles tensely and closes his hand around the microphone, looking behind him for just a moment at the two families from his speech.

'I'd like to thank Eustace who has been generous enough to open his home for this great cause. The community especially have been a great service to not only our patients at All Saints but the staff as well. Your generosity, charity and kindness resonates deeply in the hearts of us all. Yet, for working to their best standard in times of stress and trauma, for supporting and helping through those losses, I'd like to take a moment to thank every single surgeon, doctor, nurse, porter, receptionist, cleaner and staff member in all the health clinics over the state.'

His has to pause because there's a raucous explosion of applause while he stands looking beautiful shy with his cheeks enflamed.

'To further that, for his continuous support, I want to extend my gratitude to my mentor, Frank Maddison, whom without we would all be worst off.'

I catch Doctor Maddison's eye as Carlisle refers to him and he blushes like I never imagined he could. I wave, grinning proudly and clapping in time with the hall.

'And lastly… but certainly not least… I want to thank my family. Who have supported me, inspired me and fought with me. There are no words to express my gratitude…' He looks to the Masen's, smiles warmly and lifts those blue eyes to where Edward and I are sitting. My heart jumps. 'So I'll settle by reminding you that I _love_ you…' I slap Edward's wrist, grasping onto it and nearly falling off my stool when he winks at the two of us. '... More than anything... God bless...'

Photographers are everywhere, capturing his moment perfectly. There's cheers, there's applause, there's excitement and finally he descends the steps leaving the band to play with reddened cheeks and a shy smile to match.

'Soppy git.' Edward mutters chuckling but when he sees my face he groans. 'You're not _actually_ crying, are you?'

'Of course not.' I hiss, pulling him to his feet.

Both Edward and I jump up and walk quickly to where he's climbing off stage but tonight he's in high demand. Meaning he gets swallowed by a whale of people, journalists, reporters, community members, family, friends, doctors….

'Let's hope the fame doesn't go to his head.' Edward mutters and we both share a bit of a chuckle.

We sit with his parents for a while, Elizabeth talking to me about the obvious. I'm only half listening, watching in the crowd in the hopes he'll come swimming back soon because I'm not in the mood to fraternise with strangers in which point, my attendance at a party is useless.

As sweet as she is, she does go on and it soon becomes clear she's as eager to be a mother to him as she is to Edward. It's difficult. She doesn't want to overstep the mark and Carlisle has grown to become a very independent person or at least, independent from those older than him. He couldn't ever see her as anyone other than his best friend's mother, perhaps an Aunt at most….

Which is a shame because she really is selling him off, going on about his attributes, how great he is in this. Weird.

'Mother.' Edward says frowning, he gives a knowing look to which she laughs at.

'He thinks I'm going on!' She giggles, squeezing my hand.

Oh. Maybe he is the jealous type then. Ha. So she stops, she has a drink with her husband and both of them tell their son to have a dance.

'Esme?'

'Hell yes!' I'm bored, dancing sounds especially good when the music is this upbeat.

So that's what we do to pass the time, we dance for a long time, occasionally pausing for a drink or to tie my long hair into a soft bun, waves falling around it. It's instantly soothing. Edward can be full of himself but he's brilliant at dancing and he certainly knows how to take my mind off things.

We dance to everything, we do everything from the side step to a ballroom dance, the Charlestown, the jive. Fucking name it and that's what we do, laughing as we muck around for ages, our limbs aching until we really make a fools out of ourselves.

It's some upbeat cheery tune and because Edward and I come from (mostly) loving but old fashioned families, it's a dance that we can throw ourselves into. To the point that not only is he spinning, lifting, twirling me and dropping me, we're doing so incredibly fast and one minute we're surrounded by people also joining in. Until eventually the crowd has become a circle and we're in the middle of it having a giggle.

My feet are killing me, the heels are gorgeous but murderers and with every kick or tap or lift or push, I'm melting the little bit more until finally the song ends and we're charmed with an embarrassingly loud applause.

'I need a drink.' I gasp to Edward who's fanning himself just as much as I am.

Elizabeth almost wets herself with excitement as she drags the both of us to her table, pushing her camera into my face.

'Everyone was taking photos, did you see how-'

Both of us are busy chugging down glasses of water.

'You were fantastic!' Carlisle says, suddenly appearing behind and leaning behind on both of our chairs. Edward gives him a thumbs up from behind his glass but I have to turn. He goes to playfully wrap Edward in a hug but Edward keeps jumping out of the way until he wraps his arms around his chest.

'Good to know you haven't lost your step.'

I'm expecting the same enthusiasm … But he doesn't hug me. He just gives me a proud smile and offers his hand.

Why did Edward get a chest touch and I didn't?!

'I want you to meet someone.' He says quickly, pulling me from my seat, my hand in his and dragging me across the hall. I barely have time to throw my glass down, he's so excited.


	47. Reasons why it's effortlessly easy

_**Thank you soooooo much for all your loyalty, your comments, your favourites and your follows. I cannot appreciate it enough. But here we are. One conclusion of many.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

With a devious smile he drags me from the hall, between several people, weaving through the tables and chairs, past the stairs and into a dark little lounge room filled with about twenty men and three women, all smoking cigars and playing some card game. He's got both of his hands holding mine now, behind his straight spine like he's shielding me from view first towing me along before stopping in front of the fireplace and introducing me. I feel like I should be popping out of a birthday cake yelling ' _surprise'_ considering the expressions I'm greeted by.

'Gentlemen, this is Miss Esme Platt.' He beams, smiling at me so widely that all I can do is frown. Though realistically with my heart and head jumping all over the place, I should be glad I'm not looking at the ex-fiancee step-mother drama that I had been so desperately fearing.

There's a few of them, four smoking, two not, mid-thirties to forties as they return the greeting.

'Hi,' I murmur, shyly.

They shake my hand and there's so much waiting to be said as all of these men swagger to speak to me. It's like I'm being pimped out. But he sees my concern, pulls a chair for me to sit down on and squeezes beside me, interlacing my hand as if he's not concerned or embarrassed by the repercussions of such an act.

 _Twice_ now.

'Esme, this is Eleazar and his friends.'

All of them are grinning beneath their cigars but with so much smoke in the air, especially when I'm trying to re-quit, it's hard to think.

'Urm?'

The one Carlisle introduced, Eleazar, speaks up, his voice accented yet softened by a large smile.

'Both Edward and yourself were quite the hot topic since the last time we spoke...' He teases, excusing my blushing friend giving such generous expressions of awe that I kind of forget to listen to his words. 'It's nice to see that in thirteen days, that hasn't changed…'

'We met in Alaska.' Carlisle explains with a laugh, his eyes a sparkling when he grins beautifully at me.

'He was as much of a question then as he is now. Did you see him _refuse_ a drink?'

Carlisle rolls his eyes, friendly as he turns to me. His hand still lies against mine, his smile becoming so insanely hot that it's the only thing I can look at to understand what's going on.

To clarify- I don't know what's going on.

'He was showing off your creations just now. Might I say you are quite the talent?'

'Oh?' I hear myself say, sounding a lot more abrupt than I intended. 'Urm, thank you?'

'Eleazar collects artwork.' Clarifies Carlisle, all teeth now.

'Some of my-?' I'm thirty steps behind.

'Art-work.' Says a man of the left, sniggering.

So I turn and look to my only source of translation. Bad choice. He's grinning. Its smart grin that has just been accepted into Harvard and is now qualified as a genius grin. A know-it-all grin, sultry and above me several leagues above the sea.

'I have a few photos on my phone.' He explains giving me a wink. 'They want to see more of your stuff.'

'More?' I repeat, still in a confused daze.

'Perhaps we rushed into this...' Says Eleazar, judging eyes at his friend, who frankly can be an _expert_ in rushing. 'I'm very interested in the way you paint Miss Platt, not only interested but _invested_ and… well, I'd like to see more.'

'You want to buy my artwork?' I hear myself guess. The blonde halo shakes.

'We want to put it on display. Big-Shot over here is bragging about your latest piece-'

'Unfortunately, I didn't take a photo.' He intervenes, eyes sweetly charming. I look across for help but it's pointless because they're _so_ excited.

'What is this about?' I ask, leaning forward off my chair. Trying to act adult like is extremely difficult when you're also trying to appear sexy, too.

' _You_.' Carlisle whispers proudly. 'Your _talent_ …'

If this is a way of him trying to persuade me to move I'm not entirely sure it's working. Especially because I'm completely lost. His face doesn't reveal much, it's a genuinely pleased expression.

'You have that much faith in me?' I scoff with half a snort. Then I remember that it's somewhat ugly and fiddle with my locks.

…Did I even wake up today? Maybe this is all a dream?! Oh my god… this isn't real _at all_? Tilly must have killed me with that bottle. I've been dead for weeks. No. That's ridiculous. I wouldn't have Carlisle if I'd died then… I must have died _before_ that. Perhaps in high school? There was that time with Charles…

An encouraging hand squeezes me back into a dazed reality. Death is the only explanation for someone this brilliant to be fawning over me.

'If you're worried, we could always have a trial run and if it is not befitting, we'll negotiate from there… But I was under the impression you were looking for a job? And what better job than one to compliment your studies?'

This isn't an ' _or'_ situation? I can have _both_? My eyes widen, the hand beneath mine warm and friendly and so, so…

An actual job?!

'Would I be paid commission, or a percentage of the exhibition?' I pose ever-the-professional as I try to sound sturdy. It's going better than I thought.

How the fuck am I sounding so calm? An _exhibition;_ my work in a fucking exhibition?! Blow me down and shag a horse. The second guy shakes his head, a dark skinned man with a groomed face.

'You will be paid separately by both companies.'

Paid by _two_ companies?! Let the horse shag _me_. _Two_ companies?!

'...Right?' Carlisle's distracting me with his grin, he could be losing me a good chance here.

'Not only will you be paid for the pieces you've made but on top of that, a percentage of the exhibition.'

Don't gape at them. My heart is going crazy.

'So… It's not a stable pay?' I guess, my voice now bumbly and childlike.

They all smile to each other. Eleazar laughing as he smirks to Carlisle. Carlisle isn't looking at him; he's staring at me. A little encouragingly. The rest should be shameless guilt.

'On the contrary, we think what we're willing to offer will be stable enough.'

I'm just gaping at them. Looking confused.

'Perhaps it would be best to send over some paperwork for you to look at. Just official stuff to help you decide?'

I nod dumbly, completely blind to the words they say so they accept this as the close to any conversation. Which is fair enough when I've become mute. My neighbour has his jewelled eyes on my face, trying to read them or rather hypnotise the same amount of joy into it but it's a struggle.

Some girls just need to take their time with things. Today… for _once_ … I am one of those girls.

'Another round Cullen?'

They show him the cards but he politely declines and hearing my silence, helps me again to my feet till we're outside the 'billiard' room. Where he grins at me again. He needs to stop. I'm confused enough as it is, being charmed isn't helping.

'Isn't it fantastic?!'

'Sure.' I murmur quietly. His smile falls.

' _Sure?_ You're not pleased?' It's like telling a kid that Santa died from obesity. They say honesty is the best policy…

'I'm a little too shocked if I'm honest….'

This is toning it down by a lot. I'm not just shocked, I'm a little annoyed. How on earth he managed to sell my work _WITHOUT ME_ , is both infuriating and impressive. Similarly, where _is_ this job? He can't ask me to move with him and then set me up for a job interview in the next breath. It's nuts. No matter how amazing the opportunity is…

Maybe he doesn't want me to come with him after all.

Or maybe he's proving that he wants to stay wherever I decide to go?

He frowns a little, tries to hide it which only taints his smile into a crooked one. I have to hold the urge to sigh while I explain myself.

'Can I just not think about… _change_ for tonight?' I beg, looking up delicately because he did just square me a potentially awesome job and I don't want to sound ungrateful.

'Of course.' He replies, nodding to reaffirm himself. 'Of course, I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry.'

I smile warmly, waving the clasp of our hands with a grin and eyeing the way they fit so perfectly together.

'Good, come on then, Cullen. Show me your moves.'

I grab his hand and drag _him_ towards the music. I can feel the blush in his hand as he starts to gently protest.

'Es, really. I'm no good at dancing.' It's a cute lie.

'Don't lie to me, Liz told me about _all_ the European dances.' I retort, weaving between people as he politely asks for them to move, hanging back as much as he can while still holding onto me. Just because I said she was _rambling_ on doesn't mean I wasn't listening. Anyway, he danced with me a little the other week.

'Damn.'

'Don't look so nervous- it's _just_ a dance.'

He scoffs loudly; 'No it's not! I've seen you dance- you'll floor me!'

I have to remind myself not to bite my lip in case I ruin my war paint. I stop, feet on the edge of the large wooden square, safe from the other couples, batter my eyelashes and lower my voice to smooth silk.

'Only if you're lucky.'

Those shoulders shiver. 'Please be gentle?'

Shrugging out of his jacket, he folds it on a table with a smirk, thus turning my stomach to knots. He unbuttons his cuffs, safely pocketing them in my bag and folds the material up to his elbows revealing the strong forearms, the fine blonde hair trailing against it. He holds his arms strong, ready for me to step into and I'm about to when someone clasps a hand onto his shoulder, right against his neck. He flinches so violently that his soul nearly leaves his body.

It's Doctor Maddison looking very formal and very pleased. Carlisle offers me an apologetic smile and turns.

'Might I be a bother and steal your partner for just a moment?' asks the doctor, looking back towards his prodigy. 'Good news, Carlisle… _very_ good news.'

I shake my hands away, ignoring the blank look of disbelief on such a curious expression and soon recognising the look of guilt lacing between it, too.

'Of course.' I say, retracting my hands to look poignantly and proudly at my partner. 'Of course, go right ahead.'

Damn.

'I _will_ dance with you!' He swears, looking incredibly sincere before he turns his attention to the rather engulfing beam of his mentor. It's flattering he looks so concerned for my feelings. Lonely too.

Doctor Maddison is leading him away.

Feeling pretty dumb and completely lost as the mass of people consumes them and singles me out, I stay standing; not really knowing what to do with my hands twisted in my grip. I turn towards the table, pick up his jacket. Its still warm and smells strongly of home. Mint, a strong pine cologne that I find myself fixed upon, with our washing powder but it doesn't last long what with the flowers, perfumes, sweat, and alcohol in the room.

'Cheer up face ache.' Edward teases, grasping my hand and pulling me back to the floor again. I don't know how he has the energy. Now that Carlisle's gone, the thrill of dancing when my legs are sore seems tiresome now.

He fixes his copper fringe away, flexes out his arms and takes the stance Carlisle had with a wider distance.

'They're going to offer him a position…' He warns, face deliberately pulled away from any biasedness.

He's forcing himself to seem neutral. The music is weirdly soft, less led by the tune and more by the romantic lyrics. It should feel uncomfortable, or would usually but luckily Edward is repulsive. Or more accurately, we couldn't dance romantically if our lives depended on it. We dance well together, of course we do. Its about support. Besides, he had a sway in his hips that bothered me rather than helped me to lose focus. We dance to a few songs, loads, most of them miserable before I can bring myself to answer.

'They would be foolish not to…' I reply, knowing full well he could still deny it. Gripping my hand still, he follows my step back, placing a hand at my back and fighting hard not to let my face drop away.

'Don't look like that… he has every reason to say yes, too.'

'I can't…' That's the only words I get out. With a hurt expression, I inhale through my nose. 'I can't do that to him…'

He catches my falter and works it into a spin, pulling me back and following my step, an eye cast outward looking for him.

'I didn't even take notice… not of anyone. I didn't even _know_ Emmett's been failing…'

'A four point average is difficult, Es. Doing that while working _constantly_ … You never had the time.'

'That makes me sound so selfish…' I complain miserably. He sighs.

'Would you like a second opinion?'

'I need it.' I tell him greedily, grateful for how easily he caved. He takes a few seconds, making me endure the wait with vomit-nducing concern.

'What does it matter, Esme? Wherever you are…'

'It matters _everything_.' I answer, rudely. 'Do you really expect me to stay within ten feet of anyone whose going to hurt him?!'

'And so you can see where he's coming from?'

'What-' _Oh_. My step falters again but he still manages to capture my arm and help me continue to dance while my brain melts with frustration.

'You've been hurt… he's been hurt… timing isn't great but it's reasonable.' He rolls his eyes. 'I don't know what it is about the two of you… you just always manage to find problems from nowhere… it's like you're both afraid to…'

'To?' I demand. He pushes his green eyes away, hopping from each person, the many people… so many people… everyone is here…. Everyone wants his attention. Everyone wants him. And Carlisle wanted to dance with me. 'Tell me…' I say suddenly. 'Tell me, _why_ Bella?'

'What?' he asks with a laugh, urgent to cover up the call of her name with his parents in earshot.

'Why her, Edward?'

The frown of his suggests he's about to be offended by my demands, instead he waves it away with a trusting shrug.

'Because being away from her is impossible.' He murmurs, thoughtfully. He stops dancing with me, smirks knowingly and opens his hands to let me go.

'I've got to-'

I'm already pushing past people before I can think to question my rudeness. I shouldn't be looking for him. If he's being given a job offer I should let him hear it out.

Edward's right. Even if he's not being explicitly said so, to let Carlisle take it… What does it matter where we are? Washington isn't that far? Several hours… and several more… Why was I hesitating when it's a decision he's so tirelessly considered?

* * *

There's too many people. The whole town is here followed by all the major people from the nearing city. They haven't left a single person out and that makes it impossible to get a breath, let alone a specific person. With a hand in my hair, mouth a wry line and eyebrows furrowed, I keep doing the rounds. I keep pushing past people, looking in the garden, the bottom floors, catching Eleazar, catching the Masen's… colliding into Eustace Cullen's shoulder. I nearly wind myself on that one, slipping close to the ground. He doesn't stoop to help me up… but other people do, taking over in his attention so that the hard glare of contempt changes into an _act_ of concern. I'm already pushing past again. Eyes frantic.

He _can't_ accept.

'Esme?'

Spinning on the spot in the hallway, paused at the staircase I take him in. I take him in as if I might not ever see him again. I gorge myself on Carlisle Cullen.

'I've been looking for you.' He explains, a wide smile on his mouth as he holds out his hand to me from the bottom of the stairs.

I keep my head to the floor, watching my heels as I slowly step closer towards him like some kind of fairytale. He stops me, pulling my chin up and presenting a single white Rose to me, the stalk has been cut to the top but the petals are still beautifully delicate.

'My apologies for not dancing with you. But I found this…?' He offers, fixing it just above my left ear and twirling a lock of hair around it to keep it in place. My knees want to cave 'Shame it's not a red rose but-'

'Thank you.'

Still watching my shoes, still trying to blink away fresh and complicated expressions of damn right confusion. Thus resulting in a severe frown of concern.

'My Love?'

Fucking hell- did he have to do that?! I turn my face away, covering my eyes as I take a huge breath, swallowing the hysteria.

'What's happened?' He asks, softly.

With such a gentle touch, he pulls on my hands so my weight comes falling into him and he catches it easily. I'm still trying not to let any water fall from my eyes, my chest heaves with the effort.

'A _worthy_ cause?' I ask, the words shaky and so fresh with a new discovery of self-obsession. He looks a little lost before carefully nodding.

'In the sense of-' He starts to babble.

I don't give a shit if I'm in view of every single person. I wouldn't care if Alice walked in or _worse_ …one of our parents. I capture his lips, moving into them, and the stance of his and folding myself into his arms. He's stunned of course, blushing when I pull away but with a quick glance to the door, spotting a few unentertained strangers, he rubs his smile against mine.

'What am I possibly meant to do with you?' I chuckle, gripping his jaw and breathing in his grin.

'Unbiasedly I'd suggest never to come near me... However, you may have deduced from these three weeks, I'm quite selfish…'

'I couldn't leave you if I _tried_.' Edward is right. Five days was unlivable.

'The feeling is mutual, Miss Platt.' He pauses, dark eyes liquidating into mine before leaning into my hands. 'I can't even put into words how much I…' He lets the words die again, or rather kills them off with another frown.

'You?' I probe but he just shakes his head, miserably. He does better than me, I just want to bury myself in his scent, in his arms and never unclasp myself again. 'May I make a suggestion?'

'Of course.' He says, watching me earnestly. A dirty smirk curses my lip.

'Considering I've stolen _so many_ of your firsts… nothing would give me greater pleasure than reinstating your youth?'

'Reinstating my youth?' He repeats, a dumbfounded expression written into his features.

I press up on my heels to put my lips at his neck, letting the words tickle his ear from below; 'Why don't we go find some hidden spot and make-out?'

'Ugh, really?!' He asks, biting his lip knowing he should decline. I slowly nod, flattered by the bewildered look of hope straying on his face. 'We _shouldn_ ' _t_ …'

'But we _will_.' I say, grinning. 'If you want?'

He's hesitating. Or at least telling himself to hesitate. I already know his answer. Not from the nod of his head or the shy breather but the smile. The curiously sweet smile promising itself to me. My hand takes ahold of his and with a brief look upstairs, I wink.

* * *

'We really _shouldn't_ be doing this…' He murmurs, lighting up again with disbelief as he moves to lead me rather than the other way round.

'We can turn around if you'd rather?' I tease. The look of devastation is hilariously gorgeous.

Here's an unexpected thing I discover about parties. Regardless of whether it's a fundraising ball, a house party or barbecue, strangers love to shack up in bedrooms. Meaning it takes four attempts to find a private space that hasn't been inhabited by a rowdy couplet.

Once alone in the hall, we take a moment to re-judge the decision. My hands are cushioning my back against the wall, my shoulders lifted slightly and the classic fabric flowers waving so fluidly along my arms as if I'm undressing. They sturdy up once they reach the dress's balcony only moving when my lungs expand which is fairly rapidly. I don't pout. I don't push out my legs or encourage my dress to ride up. I _do_ look at him from under my lashes, earth tones into a sublime blue with the free waves of my hair slipping to curl about my collar bone.

He drops my hand to my hip, until with a deep breath, he lets the glass of wine consume him wholly. He eats up my posture, eyes on my ankles, flowing up my calves, stopping at my hips and growing greedy at the sight of my torso before pulling his gaze back to my face.

It's unexplainable how he does it, but everytime he looks at me, he manages to make me feel so unbelievably wanted… and not just attractively but supportively... emotionally… My hands are at his shoulders now and rather than pull away or shudder, he angles his neck, allowing my thumb to press against the shadow my lips left. He grins when I pull him by his shirt to press against me, now leaning over me so delightfully... My fingers itch their way into his hair, my chin angled up.

Alice might be hating on me at the moment but she was saving my ass more than she knew. I'm lucky this lipstick doesn't smudge because the moment he braces his hands on either side of my shoulders, my stomach drops to my feet.

Unfortunately, it's the fastest ten minutes of my life. So fast that we skip over ten and fly straight to twenty. His mouth finds mine, sweet and so gentle before growing brave. His mint breath, fuelled by the alcohol, floods onto my tastebuds, making my lungs gasp with the flow of dark fruits poisoning my own. My hand grips tighter, my breaths hitching when his tongue creates rhythm and just when I think I'm going to have to ask him to stop, because I'm far too invested in his mouth, when I can't possibly take anymore… he gives all his power to his hands.

With his right, he cups a hand over my arm, warm palm smooth against my skin until they find where I've buried my grip into his hair. Adding pressure very gently, he tightens my hold onto him, leaning into my body and kissing away my moans. His left is far more dangerous. He brushes a few curls away, knuckles brushing delicately past my cheek with every movement.

'You're so beautiful...' He whispers, forehead dropping to mine.

'Shh...' I murmur, a laugh escaping in time to his own.

He laughs, nuzzling his nose along mine before deepening the kiss, left hand now moving along my neck, into my hair, freeing the chaos of curls and waves before letting that same hand slide down my body. With a growl, I wrench him to me, my pelvis accidently open to all suggestions he wants to make and he makes a hefty one.

'Fantastic.' He curses, hips rolling, perhaps purposefully, into mine so that he's hard against me. I chuckle against his lips, laughing with him for a moment as he gathers a stifling breath.

'How are you feeling?' I inquire, lips at his flushed cheek.

'Would it be distasteful to say cocky?'

I kiss him lightly on the lips, lining myself against his crotch so he groans, breathlessly on my skin. My eyes look over his shoulder. We're alone. There's no point second guessing myself… Our tongues duel a little more, his breaths eager but ultimately, catching when I rub myself against him.

'Es-' He cuts himself off with another groan. He's pulsing, so hard and so thick. 'Not ou there?' He pleads, laughing softly.

'Sorry-' I start to say but with a sharp breath he steps away, tugging me with him.

He turns with purpose back towards the bedroom door, leading with his hand caressing my grip. His smile is perfectly innocent but his look so devilish that it stirs butterflies. He stops outside the door of the room I got changed in. An eyebrow raised, slowing for just a second.

While the coast is clear, I kiss him hard, pushing him into the doorway and laughing when he quickly unlatches the door. He shuts it quietly behind us, unloosening his tie, eyes on my stance. I've lifted my ankle upwards, clasping the sparkling heel when he gently shakes his head.

'Leave them on?' He suggets, smirk darkening with each second. I grin, lower my foot back to the floor again and let my hands swing at my side.

'Where do you want me?' I ask, breathlessly, heart pounding as thick as in my underwear.

'Everywhere.' He groans closing the gap between us in two quick stride and securing my lips.

It couldn't be possible but somehow he managed to taste even more sincere from a room compared to the hallway. I feel his warmth everywhere, taste it, make love to it, worship it. All of it and I wanted it as badly as he did. I let us fall to the bed, enjoying how he cushions us with his arms before leaning back over me again; his tongue, hot and wet against my lips. When he moves into me again, his pants straining, I kick up my leg to hang on his hip and with a gasp he lowers his waist.

While still sucking and loving my mouth, he drops his pelvis to grind gloriously hard under my own, locking my leg higher around his hip and fingertips sliding up my thigh so that I can't help but giggle.

'Are you sure we should be making love here?' I murmur, breaking away briefly with a grin. It goes silent for a second. Then time stops and I'm grateful for it.

'What?' He questions, amazed, steading himself before ever so slowly pulling away.

His hair is trying to fall out of place like a curtain of privacy as it falls over his eyes. Slowing, yet his breath still rapid, he sits up to look at me dead in the eyes, confused almost as he struggles to believe my words.

'What?' I return, unable to shield my smile even though his look of hunger has gradually reduced to something entirely different.

'You want to make _love_?'

The words are barely above a whisper as if they don't trust themselves either. My beating heart is becoming uncomfortable while it expands to monstrous sizes.

'Isn't that what we were about to do?' I tease, fingering a blonde lock and draping it away.

Here's how I know I've changed a lot in these past few weeks. I say the words with a grin, feeling no particular offence at what could very well be a _lost_ moment. His look of awe is far too flattering.

'In all honesty, I was just following the rhythm... I wasn't sure where we were going to end up...'

He pulls away to sit his backside on his heels, his eyebrows still rather furrowed with his face angled to the side as if listening to the music downstairs. My ankle has slipped from his hip and now sits, toe facing inward on his thigh. When he looks up at me, the look of confusion has been erased.

'You want to make love?' He asks. I can't detect any ounce of tone. Neutral perhaps.

My first concern is that I've disgusted him. ' I... did say I wanted to make love the other day?'

'You had a lot to drink...' he defends, quietly.

I stop speaking momentarily to shift my posture, sitting more formally with my hair over my cleavage. 'If you'd rather not, Carlisle...?'

'Not _here_.' Is all he says.

I wait a little longer, poking at my hands, embarrassed when suddenly he's holding my gaze, hand held gently in my hair and eyes so swimmingly earnest. His smile is wry, reserved and a little nervous.

'You want to make love to _me_?'

'More than anything...' I chuckle, kissing him firmly on the mouth and frowning when he pulls away.

'Are you... are you being serious?'

'Why do you doubt me?'

He shrugs his shoulders, looking down at his lap. 'I feel like I've pressured you into this...'

'Since when?!' I demand, holding his hand still as I lean into him. 'Hon look at your neck, look at where we are, look at how close we're sitting...'

Pressure and Carlisle Cullen were opposing states. Even when handing me a key to his home...even when getting me a job... none of it felt like pressure. It was support. Encouragement. Motivation.

'But your ex..' he murmurs. I scoff, more confused than ever.

'What about him?'

'You said... you called him _charming_.' The flicker on his face may be jealousy though similarly it could be something far more pure like concern… or even irritation. For someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, he's very difficult to read…

'He was.' I say nodding, 'Dangerously so.'

'Do you… love him?'

The comment strikes me as particularly harsh. Not intentionally but only because it seemed so obvious to me. If he had to ask then he clearly didn't understand. I'd been too subtle.

'I don't love very easily...' I confess, sitting up properly now with only my hand pressing into the bed. He stays close-by and although he tenses at this comment he doesn't explain why.

'What about Edward?'

This is another comment which is beyond me. Or should be but I somehow manage to gather understanding rather quickly.

'I guess it didn't take me long to fall for him, did it?' I realise, shyly. His smile is crooked as if embarrassed. 'I guess with Edward... he's just so _rational_. But witty, too. He grounds my thinking. And the way he acts, all self-involved and promoting it...' I stop to take a breath. 'He reinstates the idealism of family. That's why falling for Edward is so easy.'

He nods in agreement.

'I can't lose him either, Carlisle..' I whisper. 'I know he's his own person with his own goals and loves and fascinations...'

'It was very selfish of me to ask...' he says, ashamed in himself. I rub a thumb along the marks of his knuckles and shake my head.

'It's reasonable of you to ask... but for as long as he'll accept us... I'd like to stay with him, too...' I admit, breathing in. He nods, thoughtfully. 'It's not moving that's scary for me. It's this whole _change_... I know it's good and I know it's what I want… but I'm…'

He lets out a breathy laugh of relief, look up at me shyly with his smile pushed to the side. 'Can I be honest?'

'Please do.'

'I'm terrified, too.' He confesses, exhaling through his nose.

I smile a little, then laugh throwing my other leg to the opposite side of his knee and dragging him to lie back on the bed. He sighs, watching my expression when I wrap my arm around his side, my hand playing with his spine.

'So what about Alice?' He prompts, as if elictling the answer. I smirk.

'Alice is hard not to love…' and I'm glad he agrees with this. 'She's critical and determined but she's always got my best interests at heart. She always manages to teach me more about myself. She's invaluable...' I stop short and grimace. 'I don't want to be disappointing her. Or even endangering anyone as she fears...'

'You _don't_ disappoint her.'

'Alice has a way of being my mother by making me my own mother. Does that make sense?'

'No.' He concedes, softly.

'She's so... forward thinking. She's always about thirty steps ahead of me but I guess it's kinda useful.'

He slides up closer, watching my expression, listening intently. I continue, as pleases him; 'Emmett is always making everyone happy. Always doing his utmost to support everyone and Jasper puts everyone at ease because he's so non-judgemental... We've managed to find _good_ people.'

'And you still don't think you love _easily_?' He questions, suspiciously.

I snort and shake my head. 'I _don't_. They're the highlight.'

'How about the Walderman's?' He asks, an eyebrow lifted.

'That's not fair Carlisle, children are always lovable.'

'But... your younger siblings?' He reminds me, still trying to stay polite though he's very much in a state of hesitation.

'Serena is young and Johnathan I've seen grow right from a fetus. I challenge anyone to watch the miracle of life and _not_ fall in love. The twins I love because they're family…It's like obligation… but that doesn't stop them being evil.'

'And JD?'

'He was _tiny_... he was so delicate and vulnerable and sweet and he took to you like air... How could I not love him?' Carlisle doesn't say much else. Just falls into the rhythm of my hand along his spine, thinking. 'I tried to love him...' I explain after a few moments of his wordless puzzlement. 'More for my mother's approval. I really _tried_...'

'Tried?' He repeats.

'I couldn't love him if he managed to find a way to resurrect the dead.'

'But...' He asks, frown softening…

'I said he had a temper… a pretty explosive one, too. Worse than mine. And when he wasn't charming my family or trying to uphold a classic kind of persona... he was trying to install those 1940s ideals... and usually with a firm hand'

He sucks in a breath, a harsh one, realisation flooding his face in time to flickers of angered disgust. I do my best to stop his rush of overthinking by kissing the bridge of his nose. It's a surprise it works.

'No.' I confirm again. 'I _didn't_ love him.'

'Es... I... I'm so sorry… I didn't...' I tuck myself a little further into his warmth, caressing his skin, his eyes, loving them all. So, _so_ easy. 'All that I've done... rushing you into things.' He starts to claim, his hand kneading his chest.

'Every mistake you think you make always comes from a good place. I trust you implicitly because... you're so inhumanely good, Carlisle...'

'I'm really not...' he blushes.

'Making love with _you_ would be a priviledge...'

'You think I'm better than I am.' He complains, face turning down.

'On the contrary, I see you for what you _are_.'

'And I don't see you that way?' He replies, still seeming stunted. 'Everyday all I want to do is tell you how impossibly infatuated... I... I am.'

'Oh hush!' I dismiss with a call of laughter. But he frowns. 'Stop trying to _out-do_ me.'

'I'm not trying to out-do you. Dammit Esme, I'm trying I tell you that _I'm..._ oh for fuck sake.'

'What?' I ask, shaking my head in confusion.

'My phone is going off...' with a sigh, he pulls himself out of my arms, hesitates and then grabs his phone off the counter. 'My father is looking for me.' He murmurs, dismally.

'I guess we'd better retreat, then?'

'I'm sorry...' he says, rubbing his forehead. 'I've really messed up everything about tonight, haven't I?'

'Of course not.' I chastise. 'When are you going to get it through your skull that asking for forgiveness is pointless? You don't need to ask for it, it would already be yours when needed. Which, by the way, it _never_ is.'

He lets himself smile, head tilted affectionately.

'Now get over here and kiss me before I really do have to marry you.'

He smirks again, letting it eat its way into a chuckle. 'I'd better book time off...' he says once he's stood opposite me, pulling me up gently on the bed so that I tower over him. When I wrap my arms around his neck he grins, his arms looping tightly at the waist before spinning me carefully to the floor.

I kiss him with every ounce of affection I have ever felt and feel their return dear into my whole body.

'I wish I could take every bad memory from you… any moment of misery and loneliness…'

'My dad used to say that bad times made character.' I murmur, hand fiddling with the back of his hair. He enjoys the feeling, head bent close to me.

'Tell me about him?'

'You're meant to be meeting _your_ father…' I remind him with a smile, he shrugs it off unconcerned. 'Not the brightest but an exceptionally hard worker. Loving, generous, protective...'

'You must miss him…'

'I reckon wherever he ended up, he probably misses us more…'

He weaves a hand through my locks, brushing the waves down my back and dropping his lips to the hidden mark at my throat. 'Missing you is an inevitability.'

'It's a shame you didn't meet him. He was a bit of a hypochondriac… he would've _loved_ you.'

'As ever, it wouldve been shared…'

'Carlisle?'

'Mmm.' He sighs, tensing in preparation for my next sentence. I put my hands to his neck and angle his face to kiss him again.

'You're my worthy cause, too.'

That mouth loops into an unrestrained smile, eyes gloriously sweet, thinking deeply, lips parted to say something… Instead our hands fall together, by my hip, entwined with the wrists bent and the fingers interlocked.

* * *

He fixes his tie, eyes the door and with a tense sigh, walks to it with me poised at his back, hidden almost as he checks to ensure the coast is clear. I giggle a little, close to his ear bent towards him so that I can see his grin taking up the side of his face.

Edward is right. We're too involved with the other for our own good and when Eustace Cullen catches our inevitable leave from the bedroom, his dark eyes, his look of disgust and horror evolves into rage. Ear splitting rage and flying to us, towering over our guilty faces, he addresses only me. Carlisle curls an arm to push me behind his posture, his jaw suddenly rigid.

'We weren't-' He starts to say. It's pointless. The excuses drop to silence.

'I might have known it would be _you_.' It's said in a snarl, blaming both my initiating of the rebellion and, from the panning of his eyes, my outfit.

'I _know_ what it looks like...' Carlisle starts to stammer, guiltily. 'Honestly but we were simply... we were...'

'Corrupting _my_ son like the harlot you are.' He continues, barely raising milky eye of contempt to 'his' son. Within seconds, like sugar crystalising, the sloppy excuses spewing forth from his pink lips turn into silent and sharp crystals.

'Apologise to her.' He warns, perfectly still as if he's afraid his hands might start to shake. I don't do anything. Nothing.

'Provoking speech as ever, Carlisle. You've always had a flair for the dramatics. I wonder if you might have acted as so if your _childhood sweetheart_ had attended?' It's very obviously a game, one that I hoped Carlisle would detangle himself from but he's falling for the bait hard. Even if neither of us are sure what the bait is yet.

'Apologise to her.' He repeats, biting back the temptation to correct him. ' _Now_.'

'Haven't grown out of that temper, have you?' He says with a snort.

'Please, Carlisle. Leave it?' I plead, tugging on his arm. He's turned to marble, colder and harder than our counters at home.

'Are you _really_ going to take your commands from a _whore_?' Carlisle braces towards him, letting me pull him back as his fists curl by his side, his jaw hard. 'You disappoint me.'

'I _always_ disappoint you.' He spits.

'You disappoint _Him_.' Eustace says, his voice eerily calm as he kicks a book from the floor out of his way so that it hits Carlisle in the foot. He doesn't look at it but that doesn't mean he hasn't seen it. I feel the shiver run through him.

'Leave religion out of it, you sick _fool_.'

' _He_ is always watching. _He_ sees what you're doing. _He_ sees your sin and your immorality and _He_ is _disgusted_ with you.'

' _My_ sin?' Carlisle scoffs, shaking his head.

'Forgiveness is beyond _His_ capabilities for scum like you and your… _plaything_.'

He's pressing all the right buttons to drive Carlisle into outrage. I keep trying to gently pull him away, to beg him to ignore the taunts but he's stuck to the spot.

'You have _one_ more chance to apologise to her. I advise you take it.' Everyword he puncuates, thickly. The final warning. My heart beats furiously, my palms sweaty, the dress tight and squeezing the air from my lungs.

'You think I don't know?!' He roars. 'You think I'm that _stupid_?!'

He seizes Carlisle by the side of his neck, hand cupping where the pink flesh grows darker and drags him through a room opposite. I can see the humiliation biting his face, the poison on my tongue but he follows him left of the stairs. Eustace kicks the door open, tightening a hand before throwing him into the room with such force that as he stumbles, I run to his aid. The light turns on, the empty room barely containing enough light to shine on a painting.

 _My_ painting.

My stomach drops, as does Carlisle's face.

'You _stupid_ child. You think I wouldn't discover _this_?!' He screams gesturing to my brush work.

'Where did you find it?' Carlisle gasps, too shocked to remind himself of his anger. Slowly letting me pull him, he stands close to the frame, eyes reading over all my hard work and the fury melting into mistrusting disgust.

'Does it matter? What are you; low-class scum? You think I wouldn't _recognise_ -'

The painting... It looks like his father. The animalistic glare, the scowl, the snarl are all things that currently take up the face of Eustace. I feel even more abhorred with it than I did a week ago.

'How _did_ you recognise it?' Carlisle asks, voice still hard as his careful finger drapes over my name in the corner of the painting.

'What do you mean? It's obviously _you_ -'

'No!' Carlisle yells, turning over his shoulder to let himself be loud. 'No it's not. It's _not_ obviously me. None of it's obvious. Tell me the _truth_!'

'You think I don't know what's going on between the two of you?'

I think he's going to be furious at this comment but his angry face lightens up slightly, his mouth sloping into something so vulnerable, so genuinely heart-breaking in its naivety. 'You know?' Carlisle asks, his voice childlike in it's plea for acception.

It's sudden weakness makes me flinch.

'Of course I know. _He_ will punish you for your acts. _HE_ will shame you eternally.'

'You _know_?' He questions again, eyes flicking briefly to me before retaining importance in supporting a look of unwarranted compassion. 'You know that I'm in love with her?' Carlisle says, hand slipping from the painting as he looks to his father, begging, pleading for the support he's been desperate for.

In love?

He's in love?

He's in love with me?

Eustace rears his attention to his son, almost lost for words when he looks at me too but I can't say anything. What can I _possibly_ say? I'm speechless. He seems surprised, pleased almost as he steps closer to his son who is bent, breaths heavily, exhaustion stuck on his face, the relief flooding through him.

Who thought a line such as that would repair the years' worth of damage. He puts a hand on Carlisle's shoulder, ignores how violently he shudders and leans towards him.

'In that case, it's disappointing you had to throw yourself at such a common _cunt_.'

The expression changes, the glare breaking through when he pulls away and slaps Carlisle so forcefully against the cheek that he staggers to the floor again. Eustace takes one look at Carlisle on the floor, ignores my cries and while my attention is taken… breaks apart the canvas, ripping through it with a punch, the fabric colours spitting under the poise of his knuckles as my work… my whole inspiration… the epitome of three weeks… is destroyed in front of my eyes.

'Do you realise what you've just _done_?!' Carlisle bellows and though I clasp a hand on his shoulder, he launches himself at his father, knocking him to the ground and connecting his hand with the side of Eustace's face.

'Carlisle!' I scream, trying to pull him off but revenge is clear on his father's face as he spits close to Carlisle's shoe.

The act has so many more meanings than just the simple disgust I can see. It's juvenile, foul, pathetic and yet my Saint looks more hurt than he did when he was being slapped. His cheek quickly pulses up in a burning red, ignoring me and continuously pushing me a few steps from him though I'm trying to beg him to leave.

'You think I hadn't guessed? I _know_ what this _slut_ has been doing and see how she taints your purity!'

Carlisle growls again, raging against the sudden upper hand of his father as a hand is pressed to his throat, rubbing off the make-up fiercely and exposing the marks I'd left days before. Despite Carlisle's goodness and his gentleness and thoughtfulness, the words ignite the kind of anger I wish I'd never have to see. I keep trying to pull them off each other but it's useless and eventually, with a groan, Carlisle hunches up his knee and brings it up into the gut of Eustace, throwing him off temporarily as I pull and drag him to his feet. He stumbles again, wiping blood off of his lip and pushing me towards the door.

'Tell Edward to take you home'

'I'm not going anywhere-'

'Now, Esme! _Leave_.' He shouts, glaring hard at the door as his father waits for my leave. He gets impatient, steps towards his son and though he cowers just slightly, he doesn't move away. I'm about to shout at him, to drag him out of there by his freaking hair when he cups my hand on my arm and, as gently as possible, shoves me out the room.

'I don't want you to see this…'

The slam of the door has more finality than the harsh sound of Carlisle's grunt of pain and though I throw myself at the door, they've locked it.

'You're better than this. You _know_ you're better than this?!'

In conjunction to another agonising groan, comes further cries and screams from my throat and launching myself at the door, I realise it's not going to open. They ignore it, they ignore it not matter how hard I plead and thrash against the wood.

'For fuck sake. _Please_. Be _rational_!'

Rational.

 _Edward._

* * *

I throw myself into the mass of people, sprinting through and grasping people out the way, the concern and the fear tidalwaving through my nervous system. People part with angry mutterings and frustrations, glaring as I use my hands to shove them out the way.

'Esme?'

'Edward!' I gasp with a cry, holding onto Elizabeth's arms to stop me from caving. 'I need Edward.'

'Good heavens! What's the matter, Dear?'

'Now! Where is he?!' The words stumble out without context or sense and her eyebrows furrow like my flatmate's would.

'Esme... calm down.' She tries to soothe, a hand on my shoulder as I gasp harder, the breaths escaping and not returning. 'Slowly... now tell me what's wrong.'

'Where's Edward?!'

'Slowly, dear. Where's Carlisle? He'll know…'

'He's upstairs!' I scream, desperate as the words try to choke me. The music stops. People suddenly turning to my hysteria when two cold hands stop at my shoulders.

'Come, Miss Platt… deep breaths.'

I'm on the floor, balancing on my knees, gasping for breaths and words and the more I try and force them out, the more I can see blow after blow being planted onto his body…

I try to take Doctor Maddison's advice but suddenly the people have swarmed for the drama. I hear Liz happen upon realisation with a gasp, urging her husband to find Edward _immediately_ while she goes upstairs. The breaths aren't coming. People aren't helping and begging for the icy daggers of breath, I try to inhale. The cold hands drop mine, replaced by bigger hands that are hoisting me, with a rather forceful grip, first to my feet and then away from the crowd completely.

My hair is stuck to my face, my eyes closed as I focus on my heels. My lungs, once full of sweet enormity, cripple under the depravation of need, burning and stabbing blades through my chest. I'm hyperventilating, time is slowing and the more I try to calm, to scream, to explain, the more mute I become. I assume it must be Mr Masen who leads me to my feet because his whole body shrouds over mine and while my heand is bent low, my hands over my face, he drags me away into silence of a back room.

'Breathe.' He tells me and because I really am desperate for air, I try to listen. My body refuses. My hands are still shaking.

I need Edward.

'Breathe.' He commands again. Louder, fiercer, unrecognisable almost.

His voice doesn't sound right. The cheery laughter doesn't have the Chicago twang that I was joking around with earlier. It's sickly. Forced. A different voice entirely. His hands continue to rub my arms, close to the dress's neck line when suddenly… he pushes his stance against mine.

'Breathe, my little Brown eyes.'

My eyes finally look behind me, the last of my salvation falling out of my already empty lungs. My legs try to cave beneath me. They get close, too and while I'm still in disbelief, the hand comes down my shoulder.

With the last bout of energy, I leap to the otherside of the room, running towards the door-

'Esme?!' Edward cries, concerned when he grasps ahold of me. I fall into him, without words when he looks up. I feel his jaw drop in horror.

'Carlisle…' I try to explain. 'He's _upstairs_ …' The sobs try to take over. 'He's hurting him, Edward. He's…'

'Get out.' He's not looking at me, his speaking to the man in front. The grotesque form of my boss. Tanned, exhausted but highly amused. 'Get the fuck out before I call the Police.'

'Come now, hardly a polite way to treat guests?'

'You're not a fucking guest-'

'Son?' Mr Masen calls from behind, hard eyes watching the exchange of the three of us when we back closer to him.

'Get him _out_ of here.' Edward says. 'Get this fucker off the property-'

'Edward! Do you know who you're speaking to?'

My gut lunges uncomfortably. 'You know him?!' He demands, the disgust taking over from _my_ voiceless throat when he looks at his mirror image. Senior frowns.

'Edward, this is Mr King… He's been a city counsellor for-'

'I _know_ who he is!' He yells, face contorted into a look of defiance. My head is spinning, my hands losing grip on the world around us. ' _You_ know him?!'

'Of course I know him.' Senior growls, clearly embarrassed. I've backed my feet away, sliding my hands to my diaphragm. 'He's worked with Eustace for _years_ …'

'No…'

My mouth forms the shape but the word isn't mine. It isn't either of the Masen's and it isn't my boss's… It's Carlisle's. It comes out in disbelief… and I turn to him, my expression broken…

Excusing the slap on his cheek, his swelling lip and the utter disgusted rage eating him up, he seems okay. For one, he's standing, not very straightly but his feet work at least. I put my hands out towards him, to grasp onto him, but he pushes straight past me. Past the three of us…

Edward loosely grabs a hold of his arm in the last second, momentarily stopping him while I grasp his other hand as tight as my hands will allow. He's not warm with his usual affection. He's hot. The exposed skin on his arms prickles with heat, head cocked warningly as the fires of wrath cascade through him.

'Please?' I utter, trying to hold onto him though it hurts every cell of my body. He's so unlike himself... so eager... He's sliping through my grasp.

'He did this…' He has no volume but I know what he's said and then it comes out in a desperate cry. ' _He_ did this!'

'What is going on?!' Mr Masen yells, looking between us and lastly at my boss, the distrust suddenly eating up his features as he almost tries to huddle us away from the large man.

My boss smiles wickedly, the smile swallowed by his absorbant face, doubting the very essence of the two men in front of him. My gut lunges.

'My confusion is with you, Old friend. I couldn't _possibly_ know.' He says this smugly, watching Carlisle like taunt.

It's one too many and though I desperately try to seal my lock onto him… Edward lets go and with a force similar to that of the art studio, Carlisle pounces forward and pushes the large man to the wall, his forearm tight against his throat.

Three people scream and for once, I'm not one of them.

'Carlisle!' Senior roars but his voice is lost against the menacing whisper of my … _saint_. My hands tremble but I pull him, grasp his shoulder and drag him towards me. My boss doesn't fight it, not as much as he could, he's without strength in comparison. Carlisle isn't moving.

'Drop him?' I plead, my chin dropping as tears spill over my cheeks. His expression cracks, his blue eyes on me…

'He hurt you…' he retorts, ignoring the sudden gasp of Elizabeth as she jumps into the scene. Edward senior pushes her back, he blocks his arm against the door as a crowd appears, looking between us all. Our Edward is a few steps behind Carlisle, eyes on me with the same trust you'd give to an officer talking him down from a ledge.

This time, the ledge is a metaphor for his morality.

When Carlisle repeats himself, his voice is on the verge of cracking; 'He _hurt_ you, Esme…'

'Please?' I repeat. I come closer towards him, though everyone fears his crouch like an animal in captivity. My shaking hand goes over his, loosening the grip as my other holds onto his bicep.

'How can you expect me…?' He's on the verge of tears but with a tense inhale loosens his arm. He doesn't let go just yet.

'Take me home, Carlisle?'

I can see his chest rise in gasps, breaths and heavy heart poundings. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply before doing as I ask and stepping away. My boss slips to the floor, snorting the air while he looks away, disgusted with himself already. I tighten a hand on his arm, drop it to his wrist and then his hand, grasping his tightly to keep me from screaming.

Edward comes close to his left shoulder, head bent low and without words, nods.

* * *

Carlisle is silent in the passenger's seat. He's already let Elizabeth emotively fuss over him and, as clear with us two as well… needs to be at home. They don't say much when packing up the car. They haven't said much in the fifteen minutes it's taken to get _into_ the car.

Mr Masen simply dropped his car keys into Carlisle's palm, discouraged his wife from asking questions and, despite the flinch, hugged him. He hugged me too, a weak smile on his mouth when Elizabeth takes over. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. Which makes me feel so much better about my over emotion. While Edward and senior are pushing our cases into the boot, she kisses Carlisle on his good cheek, ignores the downcast sight of his eyes and embraces me, wiping away any escaped tears.

'I'm really –' Just as I'm about to apologise she shakes her head, holding me close, her sad melody of concern in my ear.

'We hope to see you soon?'

He forces a smile followed by a quiet nod. Edward doesn't say much apart from that he'll speak to them tomorrow but when Elizabeth raises an eyebrow he can't help but roll his eyes and eventually nod, looking towards Carlisle… and nodding again.

She squeezes my hand as we leave, tells us to drive safe and waves as Edward rolls across the drive to the main road.

We're very silent, waiting patiently until he's past the traffic lights and then we all jump into it like everything has happened is nothing more than a dream.

'So now that we're all in the car…' Edwards starts, seeming almost as if he barely gives a shit while I stay in the back seat. He pauses, turns to Carlisle and shakes his head. 'What the heck happened to your face?'

'Let's not talk about it.' Carlisle murmurs, humourless as he wipes his face with a groan. Edward scoffs, waiting for the reply more befitting for his curiosity.

'Don't give me that crap just tell me what went down and how many punches you threw?'

I'm surprised by a call of laughter slipping from his split lip, maybe it's madness but I'm relieved to hear it after sobbing for fear of death…

'It's really not funny, I _shouldn't_ be laughing at all.'

'Father Cullen didn't like my painting.' I explain with a rather sarcastic smile. Edward catches my eye in the rear-view mirror and then his mouth turns down and he shakes his head.

'No?' He guesses, repulsed…

'Yep.' I say, confirming his fears. 'All wrecked.'

'Oh, Esme. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?'

I catch Carlisle looking at me, waiting rather worriedly when I smile at him and nod. 'I'm surprisingly okay.' I confirm, meaning it completely.

'What does this mean... for your scholarship?'

It's a matter that I don't want to think about for a really long time. 'Well I'm not sure. I think I got a job in the same night so I don't really know what to think.'

'You did?'

'Ask Carlisle.' I dismiss, playfully. He looks exhaustively pleased again, rubbing the back of his neck when he realises Edward's looking at him.

'It's a _long_ story.'

'Alright. We'll skip to something shorter... So you punched him?' He guesses, rolling his eyes when Carlisle turns on his indicator for him with a frown.

'Kinda.'

'Yes.' I confirm from the back seat. 'Straight upper cut right into the jaw.'

Edward laughs. 'That's brilliant, I can't believe I missed it. So what did he do?'

'He pissed me off.' Carlisle says simply. Edward scoffs again.

'He must have had to do _more_ than that for _you_ to punch him-'

'My name became synomous with ' _slut_ '.'

'No it didn't.' Carlisle amends, shaking his head. 'Nothing out of that bastard's mouth was worth any kind of argument. So there were a few punches and here we are…'

'Carlisle?'

'What, Edward?'

But he looks weirdly proud. 'Dude, did you actually punch your father?'

'I…' He catches my (unnecessarily proud) grin and rolls his eyes again, smiling. 'Yeah, I guess I did.'

'Seriously?!'

'Yes!' He confirms impatiently, chuckling still.

'… Shit… You really are a bad influence, aren't you Es?' He sees Carlisle flinch and winces himself out of guilt. 'Anyway, now we have _that_ disaster out the way…' He says, eyeing both of us as he drives out onto the road.

'Go on?'

'The fuck was with that whole evening?!' Edward demands, laughing. Carlisle surprisingly matches him.

'Worst dinner in the history-'

'Did you see his face when you left the table?!'

'I was about to say the same thing!' Carlisle adds, grinning, clapping his hand on Edward's shoulder. They're both laughing loudly, grinning as they continue to openly criticise the antics of the sad priest.

Without the disgust of guilt or regret or sickness. I think I should be terrified considering the sudden change of emotion but infact I'm rather pleased by it. Relieved.

'What about when you drank the wine?' I add, leaning on the back of Edward's chair to look at him.

* * *

Edward throws his jacket and tie over the bannister the moment we pass the welcome matt, dropping earlier's bags with less than a care. Carlisle puts his blazer on the coat rack, loosening his top button and tie but staying suited before slipping off his shoes.

I didn't have a coat, but I do discard of the shoes. When I look up, my beloved Saint, slow walking but pleading ignorance of any injuries, places three mugs and a bottle of champagne on the table. Edward catches my eye but with a smile, shrugs.

'What's all this?' I ask warily. Fucking hell he's gone mad.

'My gratitude is unwordable but nevertheless, consider it a thank-you for being with me tonight. And a celebration that it's over.'

A beautiful bottle of champagne- See this would be unbearable sweet and perfect, if I didn't turn into a total wreck when pissed.

'You know if you wanted alcohol- you could've just stolen it. I doubt your father would've noticed?' I tell him.

'Two wrongs, my love. Two wrongs.'

The sound of his breathing is thick from his mouth, concerning me enough that with a stern look of warning, I lead him from the living-room back down into the kitchen. He's quiet now, a little embarrassed and expectedly so as he squints towards the floor.

'Up.' I say, slapping the counter with a flat hand while I run a cloth under the tap.

He jumps up, watching me as I close the door momentarily. Edward is hardly bothered, he's sat at the piano, eyes on his phone as he hesitates with ringing. All parties are grateful for the brief privacy. Carlisle's looking at his hands, eyeing his knuckles thoughtfully. I squeeze the water from the cloth, pull his face up to me and gently lay the cloth against the side of his lip.

'Es?'

'Who'd ever thought we'd be here, huh?' I tease, softly, gentle against his swollen cheek as he tries his best not to flinch. He licks blood of the side of his lip, touches the cut with a thumb and rolls his eyes.

'Es?'

'I'm not saying it was clever… and despite the relief, I will be pissed soon enough. You shouldn't have endangered yourself like that. Especially not _twice_.'

'Es?' He pleads, his hands coming up to lay against mine on his face. 'I'm so sorry…'

'How long have you known?' I whisper, standing close to his face with my hands dropping to his thighs. He sighs, the sound more vulnerable than expected as he avoids catching my eye.

'A while…'

' _Please_?'

He closes his eyes, taking steady breaths as he tries to stay as honest as he always wishes to be. 'I've suspected it for two weeks or so. I _think_ Friday confirmed it.'

'You think?' I question him, hating the reminder of dinner.

'I've been doing my best to ignore it. I didn't want you to find out. Especially like that…'

'You didn't want me to know?' I repeat, hands tightening on his legs. He hesitates, failing to answer as he hangs his head in shame. ' _What_ didn't you want me to know?'

'Es...' He says, frowning.

'Tell me, Carlisle.' I demand of him, a little more toughly than I meant. He sighs, finally wrenching a hand through his thick hair and lifting a set of deep blue eyes to my forest.

'I'm in love with you.'

'Are you _sure_?'

He nods, gasping in shock when I pull him to me, clutching his face to mine desperately. I can taste desperation and frustration and the slight hint of blood on his lip but I just need him. My hands lose themselves in his hair, his tongue light against my own until I encourage wider access. He slips to the marble top, pulling me carefully with him as an arm snakes around my waist, keeping me safe against the sweet cry of his lips.

My hand tightens in his hair but I use the other to guide his hand up the back of my thigh. He inhales sharply. He's so gentle, so hurt himself…

He's in _love_ with me.

He's _in_ love with me.

His hands are trembling on my skin, his tongue working against mine to tie the nervous energy into desire, hot headed, blooded desire.

I squeeze his hand tighter on my thigh, relishing his yelp when he wraps a clasp around my hip. It's in his kisses, it's in his words, it's on his tongue, in his hands as they lower down my arms;

He's in love with _me_.


	48. Reasons why its the end of the beginning

_**The love and support is insane! I cannot thank you enough. I would be so grateful if you could leave the same thoughts and reviews for this chapter! Please enjoy!**_

* * *

Crushing me a little too hard against him, he groans, desperate to capture the sharp gasp that falls against my mouth. With a start, I jump off of him, swallowing my beating heart and combing away his hair.

'Are you okay?'

His chin lowers in a nod, silencing his inhales when he looks the ceiling. Moving carefully from his chest, I put my hand to his shirt buttons where I moved too hard into him.

'Carlisle?'

'I'm okay…' he says quietly, avoiding my eyes as he relieves my hand from pressing into him. I shouldn't believe him. Hence my attempt to apologise but the sound of the piano catches in my ears and with a smile, he encourages for me to get up.

'I'm sorry your night went to shit…'

He snorts then fiddles in his pocket to produce a folded piece of paper. 'Didn't even get a chance to read it out…'

'What is it?' I ask, trying to grab a look. He reads through it once more and then hands it over. His writing is neat, spanning a gorner of the crumbled page; There's only three points.

'This is your second speech?' I guess, dropping my toes to the floor and standing beneath the light. I catch him nodding from the corner of my eye.

 _1st point; Career suicide._

 _2nd point; Conflicting codes of morality._

 _3rd point; History and scandals._

'He asked me to return to Italy…' My features fall into a glare. One that I'm trying to rid myself of. 'Before all this. As if the past never happened… I was convinced he was going to try and enlist me all night but he didn't.' He catches my face and with a grimace, shakes his head. 'Not _once_.'

'Are you upset about that?' My tone is of confusion and I doubt I could be more lost in the middle of a foreign country.

'Irritated. It proves how right Edward was. Six times he warned me. _Six._ And the moment you're criticised I didn't say a fucking _word_.' He clenches his fist as if he's going to plant it into the table top and after spending a second dissecting the fury, I come towards him and close a hand over his sore knuckles.

'Stop being so hard on yourself.' I say gently.

'Stop being _nice_. I don't deserve it.' He wallows, rubbing his forehead to aid the headache. 'Why do people constantly talk down to you? It's disgusting.'

'They don't.' I assure him. ' _You_ don't.'

'Stop making excuses.' He snaps, his hand on his forehead, eyes closed, breath thick.

'Stop biting your lip. You're going to make it worse.' I chasitise, lifting his jaw up. He frees his lip, thinking deeply before shaking his head.

'He _ruined_ your work… I can't ever repair that…'

'He would've done the same if I wasn't there. Stop punishing yourself.' I drape a hand to his fallen blonde locks and brush a few strands away. 'Is this why Washington?'

'No…' he admits. 'Washington has been a long time coming but-'

'Patience, Carlisle…'

An untimed smirk lightens his expression. 'I'm always patient.'

'Moving might not necessarily help… think this over. _Really_ think this over.'

'I have.' He promises. I frown at him and with another misunderstood chuckle, he raises a hand and agrees. 'Okay, okay… But I'd still like you to see it?'

'Hard luck, I've got to triple my work load now.' I flatter his cringe by smiling. 'I don't know when I'll have a few days free.'

'When you do… let me know.'

'What's the rush? It's not going anywhere?'

'I'm not pressuring you am I?' He says, suddenly. Thinking on the point with concern.

'No. You're fine. I'm just looking for an excuse to be grumpy…' Or looking for something to moan about, at least.

'You don't need an excuse. Tonight is enough…'

The melody is played louder, the flowing drowning out any thought as Edward alludes to his most important state of entertainment. I roll my eyes, kissing Carlisle briefly on the lips before nodding towards the front room.

'We should really go and pay him some attention before he wakes up half our neighbours.'

'Pfft, and you called him _rational_.'

* * *

For a minute, Edward looks as if he could be entirely lost in the music. His head is bent, eyes closed thoughtfully with his copper locks falling in the way. From memory, his hands glide along the keys, flowing from one note to the other, frowning in concentration until he sees us. With a thoughtful sigh, Carlisle places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently before letting it slip to my arm. I lean into it, watching him play.

'Do I have to do _everything_ around here?' He complains, smirk deepening.

'Excuse me?' Carlisle responds, softly.

'Dance with her, you fool.'

'Oh…' He stiffens a little behind me, smile crumbling beautifully when he lowers his eyes away. I angle my face up to him and raise an eyebrow. 'W-would you like to-?'

'Of course.'

'There's not much room…' He warns me with a grimace.

'You'll just have to hold me close, then.'

The kid is just about to make a face, he's starting to anyway when I catch him and thoroughly disregard the matter. Carlisle doesn't move just yet. He watches Edward play, perhaps a little shy. The music shifts with ease into a waltz and although he groans, the smile lightens up just enough when I hold myself in his arms. Edward mutters complaints when he really shouldn't. He knows the beginning of some of Tchaikovsky's work by heart and it flows into the beautiful familiar sway as I balance, incredibly well if you think I haven't danced like this in years until tonight, on the ball of my foot, each step forward a reminder of the good old days of childhood.

Eventually, with an embarrassed smile, Carlisle soon forgets the steps and gestures for me to continue solo this time, the notes moving me with no control. Then I have to stop because my feet still hurt from the heels and I'm giggling too much to catch a breath.

'See, you dance fine.' I compliment him, rubbing the soles of my feet which have just gained carpet burn thanks to my excitement.

'Alright how about this one?' Edward asks and the sweet and slow tune of his favourite flows around the living room.

'I don't know how to dance to this one,' he admits, almost blushing when he looks at me. The kid looks like he's about to say something else when he changes his mind.

'It's probably a bit _too_ ballet for him, Edward.'

Edward shrugs. 'See what you can come up with. You're a good teacher.'

So I narrow my eyes, ask for him to play it again up until a certain point, thinking about the sound. 'Alright got it. Start again for me please.' Because it's one of Edward's most played symphonies, the tune comes of perfectly, not a hitch or a stumble and I love it, all of it.

Despite his little shy smile, Carlisle again offers his arms out to me, loosening them for my height and looking at our feet.

'Try to follow a gentle waltz, follow the box step but keep your arms…'

Though his eyes are still on our feet, curious, he puts his arm around my back pulling me closer, the other holding my hand. Edward starts to play again and without murmuring, he knows to wait.

'One...'

Leading, he does as I've informed, dropping his gaze to remember the steps but I keep my head up, my eyes taking in his smile as if Edward isn't here at all and the bold piano notes are simply a very modern stereo. The second time Edward plays it, he knows the steps better, he's comfortable with them and on the third time, he can look up to return my smile.

When it gets to Edward's little ramble, Carlisle lowers me just enough to have me blushing again, his limbs acting like a warm net of safety as he brings me back to the rightful place. The song changes, into something ever so slightly more sweet but the youngest is no longer wearing the teasing grin. Rather one of longing and thought.

I selfishly hang onto the limbs securing me for a little longer, forgetting the evening and just focusing on how I feel at this exact second.

Sighing, Edward replaces the top back over the keys of the piano. I know the feeling, I'm completely exhausted but I don't want to go to bed yet. I want to dance a little more. So we do. While the Kid wonders about to do something or other, I fall into the gaze of my sweetheart. I selfishly let him love me and sway against him; warm, safe and happy.

Edwrd clears his throat, a hand on a bag strap as he stands in front of us, jeans and a jacket with his face washed.

I'm suddenly unaware of how long we've been dancing, or even how long Carlisle had his eyes closed for but with a smirk, he lifts them to the third of our trio. Then frowns.

'Are you okay?' He asks, referring very obviously to the boys attire.

'Yeah…' he says softly and then with a crooked but bashful smile he swallows. 'I'm… I'm going to go.'

'What?' I say, frowning just as hard as Carlisle when I step away.

'I'm going to go.' He repeats again, ignoring the questioning looks and eyeing the two of us. My dress suddenly feels way over the top in comparison to the casual decision in front but that's not why I'm concerned. I'm concerned why he wants to leave us and more importantly why he wants to leave us late at night.

'Why? What's the matter?'

'Nothing.' He says, honestly. 'I just think I might spend the night at Emmett's…'

'Edward…' I start to say, my voice turning on a mothering tone I never knew I had. 'Hon, it's late. You don't need to go anywhere.'

'Nevertheless, I'd like to…' He finally returns the look of our landlord.

'It is late.' He echoes. 'Have we-'

'I'd quite like to see Bella…' The kid confesses, shyly. 'She's awake, anyway… It'll be nice to get a second opinion on the evening…'

'But officer Swan…' Carlisle refutes, warningly. Edward rolls his eyes. 'You don't _need_ to go.'

'I know… but I'd like to.' He explains, staying stern to his decision though we're reluctant to let him go. Bella? I question myseelf. Why Bella? Because at the very least she was available when he needed her. It's a need we can't satisfy. It's not a family need. It's an unbiased one. 'Don't look so miserable. I'll be home tomorrow.'

'I feel like we've pushed you out…' Carlisle mutters guiltily. I'm sharing the same concern but he shakes his head.

'That's because you worry.'

'Please be safe.' I murmur, hugging onto his shoulders tightly. 'Make sure you message one of us when you're… when you're under a roof.'

'I'll be fine.' He promises, fiddling with his car keys.

'You don't have to go.' Carlisle repeats, returning a heavy hug as he squeezes his shoulders.

'I'm not going because of you.' He dismisses roughly and then with a grin he amends himself. 'Not completely anyway… But I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Edward?' I call, just as he's opened the front door. He raises an eyebrow despite the smirk and looks behind his shoulder at us.

'I'm fine.' He promises and then we waves us off in silence.

We wait a few seconds, watching him reverse his car out onto the drive, leaving it purring with the headlights on.

'He's not okay is he?'

Carlisle shrugs…. Then eventually shakes his head.

'He's never seen me like that before…'

'I haven't either.' I remind him, softly. He sighs, flooding in the regret with another sigh. He doesn't expect my hand to go to his, nor lace itself between his grip and imbed itself, warm palm to palm.

'I'm sorry…'

'It's not your fault, my love.'

'Isn't it?' He snorts.

'…I was convinced Chelsea was going to be there… and your father's bosses.'

'I'm surprised they weren't…' he murmurs. 'There's probably a reason for that… some stupid monetary reason. Or perhaps it was because you were there? Maybe he just knew he could ruin my life by ruining yours…'

'He hasn't ruined my life.' I says sternly. He nods, trying to believe the words but his jaw is hard. Even when I kiss it.

'Your boss… your fucking _boss_ … This whole time…'

I run my other hand over his sore cheek, brushing back his fringe and letting him vent a little. It works a treat and after excluding the negativity from himself, his kisses my lips and nods, unsuggestively to the floor above us.

'Bed?' He asks me, rubbing his tired eyes with a thumb.

My stomach is doing flips and not trusting my mouth, I nod my head in reply.

* * *

There's just something which feels different… A good different…. I think. Or at least that's what I say to myself on the fourth time of brushing my teeth.

'I'll buy new bedding, tomorrow.' He promises when I re-enter the bedroom.

I'm still in my tight dress, he; still in his suit and tie lounging diagonally on my side of his bed. The exposed left arm he's bent behind his head as he pretends to read from a smaller book in his hands.

A tiny little medical journal, it looks like.

Those blue eyes of his seem darker under the warm orange glow of the lamp in the room but while the colour is technically darker, they themselves still hold the same amount of …calming light. His hair is fighting two sides of the same coin. It had been combed and gelled to immaculate perfection and now, it looks like he's deliberately wrenched it from its style to seem…casual.

Is causal the right word? We don't really look casual, and I guess we're not exactly acting casual. I mean; who reads a medical textbook at 2 in the morning…

 _Upside down._

'At least let me contribute. I helped with the destruction after all.' I reply, bare feet scooting across the carpet when I move to sit on the very edge of the bed. The same place I was 14 days ago, sat in a t-shirt and drunkenly demanding he fix the main plumbing. I haven't looked at him the same since…

'It was reasonable.'

'I helped destroy your bedding, how is that reasonable?' I challenge, entertained by more than his good looks. He still smells like his cologne and our toothpaste while his feet fidget together.

' _Our_ bedding.' He returns, tossing the book to the side of the room so that it slides up against the skirting board.

My stomach does the funny little flips again, my heart beating in my chest like some heavy rock n' roll song. Under my touch, the duvet is soft but heavy, neatly pulled over the bed like its new. Like it belongs here despite the difference in the flower pattern compared to the classy leather bed.

'Carlisle?'

'Esme?' He says, using the same curious tone. I look to where his knees are bent, where his hands are fiddling behind them.

'What happened? When you pushed me out the room?'

He stiffens for a second, looking at the wall behind me before putting them back to my face, my mouth.

'With my father?'

'No, with the Spanish president. Yes, your father.'

That hot side smile creeps up again but it's back into his serious look for a moment. Then he moves forward, coming to sit beside me, hands clasped between his legs.

'Need you know?' He asks, sadly.

'No.' I think about it for a second. 'No, I don't _need_ to know… if that's easier for you.'

However, the sound of his cries of injury is something that is not going to leave my head easily. No matter how much I try to force it.

'You want me to be honest?'

No hesitation this time; 'Always.'

He nods his head, still thinking before squinting away from me but not shifting. He's still close by in touch, watching me bite my lip with little comment.

'We fought. That was it. It started off with the wine, religion…women. A few other things cropped up like his radical opinions and such before coming back to my career choices and how that affected the community.'

There is no way I can respond to that, not vocally at least so I make sure to watch him, my eyes on his shoulders, his back, the way his spine dips because of his posture on the bed, the dark red material of his skinny tie hanging by the white of the shirt…

'That's not much of an honest answer.'

'I know.' He says, still frowning and then softer 'I _know_.'

My patience is rewarded.

'He criticised my timing to become 'an _alcoholic_ '- I called him a hypocrite and said it perfect timing with him so- _intimidating_. He went on about a few things- about God's children being pure and- _resisting temptation_. I reminded him about the whole ' _wine is my blood_ ' metaphor. He called me blasphemous, I called him blasphemous and then-'

'Because?'

He was expecting this.

'Blasphemous because of all he preached to me and didn't carry out himself… Such as drinking and manners and…well that's how it moved on to you…..'

He stops; a full sentence to him, not even a beginning to me.

'Can I skip this bit?'

'No.'

Though part of me agrees with him. All the stupid stranger had to do was suggest that I wasn't in the same league as his son and he had me drowning in tears. What use was it going to bear having it repeated?

'Please?' He begs.

A lot according to my reply.

'You can't argue over my ridiculous behaviour and then not tell me the exact details of the argument it caused- that's hardly fair.' I keep my voice steady, not trying to tell him off or sound bitchy… It's just a reminder.

'Your behaviour was fine.' He retorts, his face still heavy with irritation. Up until the overselling of words and utter careless affection, I might have agreed with him.

'Just continue, will you? Stop _stalling_.'

He wipes a hand down the bottom of his face, frustrated but he gives in.

'I mentioned that it was rude of him to call you out and that you were new to this… I might've also repeated that…Oh, it doesn't matter? We argued, he didn't listen- it's over. We don't have to go back there again.'

'Carlisle...?'

A low, unthreatening growl.

'I told him that if he looked or addressed you in the same manner as he did the whole evening, I'd knock his teeth out.' He says hurriedly, clearly annoyed that he's had to expose this but not annoyed at me, more ashamed of…Oh I don't know. It's just so difficult to read him sometimes.

Throwing his weight, he rolls back so that he's looking at his bedroom ceiling obviously very aware that I'm looking at his face. One deep breath in and he holds it for about three seconds, doing this a third time before acknowledging me.

'I don't mean to be so cruel to you... Just when I think about-'

Again, the calming technique is started, he holds in in for three and lets it out. My hand is fidgeting beside where his lays so perfectly comfortable and available, open for my hand almost.

'Stop it.' I murmur, trying hard to seem gentle.

'He was mad.' He continues 'Going on about God and violence. I again called him a lunatic…mentioned that I had every right to be afraid-' he looks like he regrets that word, '-of his _choices_. Considering what he was preaching about war. He claimed his opinions were enlightenments- Healing the body had no merit into healing the soul. I'm wasting my time trying to heal the sinful…blah, blah, blah….'

He catches my frown.

'Alright, not _blah_ , more like ' _God's child works for the Lord and his flock not on the matters of the non-elite…._ '

'Meaning?' I ask.

'Meaning the non-religious. Then he basically just shat on the whole scientific proof of my jumper and career calling Darwin a; ' _mad blasphemous old sinner who paid for his sins in hell_.''

He's outright refusing to confront the obvious. He knows I know. I don't how bad it is and I can't read if he's in _much_ pain… but I heard him accept every onslaught of violence. And I know he didn't fight it…

'He accused me of desecrating my morals and…my virtue..'

I snort the moment he shyly mutters ' _virtue_ '. 'You're really fighting to give me details on that, aren't you?'

He nods so I gesture for him to continue.

'So he threw lots of money at me. Told me to consider it a favour until I grew out of my _childish interests_ and returned to my rightful place…. I said something like I wanted his... Blessing. Pathetic, right?'

'It's not pathetic.' I say sincerely.

'And it finished with him telling me that as long as I continued to idle in my sins,' a brief look at me to judge my offence '…I could go to hell.'

'To which you replied?'

'Gladly.' He finishes, concealing a smirk.

Even though the fight just to expel all this information feels much more exhausting that the speech itself, his posture shows how suddenly he relaxes. It's funny, before he said anything, he looked fine, he still looked like his normal calm self but it wasn't until he went 1980s exorcist on the things that bothered him it became clear just how brazenly he wore his heart on his sleeve.

He doesn't have to hold his breath anymore, the rise and fall of his chest is a natural unrestrained movement that doesn't need guiding. Relishing in the moment's silence allows me a bit of time to think myself through.

'He really doesn't like me, does he?' Understatement of the _year_.

'He doesn't like the things that make me happy.' He corrects, gently.

'I make you… _happy_?' The shattering is the overexcited breaking of my heart.

This amuses him. Again he nods. 'I tell you I'm in _love_ with you and you're bemused to hear that you make me happy?'

'I…' I don't know how to answer that so I just look at my hands, thinking and trying not to blush.

He hums a laugh, the lazier sound rolling off of his mouth in a purring tone. Goddamn he is just so…..

He looks away again but doesn't move away, instead, leans a bit closer, hand going to the same spot where my left is but I playfully move it before he can touch it.

It rests on his left cheek, bringing up his jaw to look at me, him a little confused, a kind of relieved confused. He takes his time following my hand. He trails a finger up my waist, briskly so as not to seem rude. Where my sleeve is hanging, he very lightly squeezes my shoulder as he passes, a smooth touch following down my arm, testing out skin sensitivity before coming to rest on top of the hand on his face, holding it there.

I mentioned before that things are different and now I know why. I knew something was different from the moment he tried to first get the words out. But it is only now I'm coming to realise how determined I am to respect his claim... and to some extent, support him in it. Through any means in fact….

So here we are, hands together, trying to judge the others movements before I take the lip and kiss him. It's as warming and as welcoming as a warm bubble bath in the freezing winter.

We're good, initially. Almost like we pretend this is another of our teaching sessions and we're just doing a simple review. Which we're not. The first kiss is distant almost, wary. Then it becomes obvious that neither of us really intends to... _behave_?

All very modest at first. Very soft movements, controlled and pleasing…..until I become over intoxicated with that dormant desire I was forbidden to use on him. So I'm to blame not letting him part away from my mouth...but he's to blame for actually _parting_ my mouth with his. That's where it goes bonkers.

Such sweet little innocent kisses from a fairy-tale turns into a fiery kind of invasion and I'm throwing my whole enthusiasm into it. Just like he loves to, a hand goes to my hair but it grips this time; embeds itself deep to the roots which is perfectly thrilling because the nails on my right hand are kind of tarnishing him through his shirt. The mint of our toothpaste soon seems to taste like some rich spice, and every time I breathe it in I get even more forward in trying to follow the source. And then the tongues happen…. The very minute his tongue nips against mine, I give out a real feral groan and sit up on my knees to deepen the kiss. I tie my hands in his blonde locks and tighten myself in a world of undeniable hunger. His hand leaves my hair, it comes to steady my posture against him before pulling me with him to the bed, flat with me kind of on the high rise. One hell of a high rise.

He's so gentle with his touch that it makes his mouth even more hot as it moves urgently with mine, breathing, uttering and melting in synchronisation, letting me die all that more. It's a happy death. When he rolls us, so he's above, I get the giggles. Only a little but enough to make us pause to catch a breath before continuing just as radically as we were just a second ago. He's so soothing against me, not just mouth wise but also kind of torso to torso wise and skin wise and I'm sure I can feel the heat of a blush on his neck.

The warmth of the mint smell, the heat of the spice, the comfort of our laundry detergent and his pine cologne all joining together to become the single most intoxicating scent in the world. The bad hand acts again… Not rudely but I can't control it. Everything about how we move together, on my part, is involuntary. Like breathing. I _have_ to be close to him. I have to be colliding our bodies together. I have to feel the relief of his weight against mine.

I can almost- _almost_ feel his stomach, his chest, the arms. Almost is not enough- I have to have it. I start at his collar, first with one hand and then with both until his hands pause mine, keeping us still….then going to the buttons below and helping me undo the rest and oh my fuck it's so unbelievably gut wrenchingly hot that I literally whine again…

This time he acknowledges my accidental animal sounds and chuckles.

Getting the shirt off causes a bit of an issue.

Number one; the tie is still around his neck and though that's quickly discarded without having to break apart, when he tries to pull his shirt off and gets stuck, we have no other choice but to take a breath. Mainly because we're laughing a bit too hard.

'Shouldn't have rolled up the sleeves…' He mutters, having to roll the sleeves down while I do the other arm. Then it comes off.

No words. But ample concern.

He knows how beautiful I find him. It's something I never think to hide. That being said, his stomach has taken a change from this morning. Instead of the sturdy torso, faced only with the fine line of blonde hair to distract… He's sore, a tort sharpness eating up his body; a dark, fever red that is turning darker as I look.

He's been hurt… _really_ hurt.

'Carlisle…?' I mutter but he shakes his head, eyes emotively gentle when he kisses me. Such sweet meanings behind such an outrageous movement that I'm winding myself up as my hands grace his hurt perfection.

Shoulders are… _mighty fine_ under my hands: both hard and soft at the same time and again, I can't help but make a vocal appreciation when his hands slide back up my ribs. Then my senses hit me all at once…or they try to but I only listen to about three.

'Wait,' I say, pulling away as we both gasp the sweet breath of fresh air. My head spins and my tongue drools….

'Are you okay?' He asks, shrinking nervously where he sits despite the fact I have most definitely attemted to almost straddle him. _Almost_ …the dress saves me in some areas and doesn't in others.

'…You've been… Are you _sure_?' I question sternly, trying to make myself seem more in control the higher I hold myself. Under my look he turns serious, nodding eagerly but staying patient. Extremely patient. We differ in that respect. 'All that's happened…?'

I raise my eyebrows and look at where his belt buckle has been undone by _my_ hands… Shit, I really do move fast?

'We don't have to…' He reminds me gently, a shy smile eating up his gorgeous face while his eyes… those perfectly sweet eyes. He loves me.

'We need introductions…' I begin, turning thoughtful when I sit up. 'We can't _tell_ anyone… And despite his… _thoughtfulness_ and his... _enouragements_ you can't tell Edward…We'll be screwed.' Again, the smirk comes up. If anyone finds out about this- _I'll_ be pulverised.'

Even if they suspect, the rule is to not confirm. Rumours always die down eventually. He's so sincere in promising, it's almost funny.

'Second- oh no, wait! To add to the first, if you brag to Alice, I'm personally hunting you down and fisting you with a fucking meat cleaver. Got it?'

'I've got to tell you that I'm not into all that kinky stuff-'

'Oho. No. I'm being serious. If she finds out, we'll have nothing left to make love _with_ … even if it is making _love_. Second-' I raise my finger to point at him, sternly. 'You go anywhere near my asshole-'

He laughs outright, shaking his head. 'I won't, I promise.'

'This is non–negotiatble, okay? If you so much as slip out and touch my ass, I'll be putting a poker through yours to see how you like it.'

'We don't own a poker.' He replies, mouth crooked and eyes gleeful.

'Well, I'll buy one then.'

'Warnings taken, I agree not to-'

'Oooh! Last one!' I say, halting him. '… If I'm hurting you or rushing you or if you change your mind… you _need_ to say. '

'And vice versa.' He returns, watching me.

'Vice versa.' I promise, smiling.

The dress is getting uncomfortable now so I pull my arms from the sleeves a little hurriedly and lean to kiss him while my non-retrained arm reaches for the lamp.

'What are you doing?' He asks and I can taste the smile against my lips.

'Turning off the light?'

'Why?'

I pause. 'It's just something you do? It's something I do. It's better that way.'

'Better when you can't see what or who you're doing?' He fills, humorously.

'No.'

'Please can we leave it on instead?' He asks, softly, hands fidgeting around either my hair or my face or my ribs where the sensation leads me to forget all other non-important things and focus on the desire coursing through my skin.

What happened to non-compromising, huh? 'Why do you want it on?'

'You're charmingly beautiful and I don't really want to miss seeing something so perfect. It would be a shame to miss it.' He sounds like he's talking of a car engine. 'And besides….it's nothing I haven't seen before?' He adds carefully.

It's annoying but he makes a fair point. I was melting on his hand earlier. And several times before that… and he's seen me naked a lot…

'Fine. But leave the flattery for someone dumber? I'm _already_ in your bed.' Keeping the light on is new… so very new… Is making love just to do with electricity? Because I feel weirdly virginal now.

'I'm not flattering you. Just acknowledging the truth…'

'Carlisle.'

He's still grinning when he pulls my face back to his, reuniting said passions. But my dress is harder to get off. Like really tight against my body so I ignore it for a second, return to his trousers and come falling to my back.

Even his fucking legs are hot, heating me up dramatically, keeping me pinned between such glorious tortures.

'Are you _sure_ you want to do this-?'

'Yes!' I say impatiently, pulling on his shoulders...Mmm… Again he doesn't move.

'With _me_?' He finishes.

'I couldn't be surer.' I murmur, in between locking my lips around him. His returning kiss is distant.

'But I'm not …experienced?' He says questionably.

If he keeps working me up and then stalling, the desperation is going to wreck that smooth skin of his with my talons of frustration. But then I see how shyly he's looking at me, lips pressed tightly together.

'That really doesn't matter to _me_. Does it matter to you? Would you rather …with someone else?' It's only just hit me that I'm totally hell bent on stealing his virginity.

'Never! It's just…'

I try to pull his face back to mine but he resists just slightly though his hand goes to hold mine so as not to offend.

'Just what?' I complain gently. He sighs though a smile has crept on his face.

'I'm not exactly…going to' he exhales. ' _Last_.'

Oh.

Oh that's really…thoughtful.

'No one does on their first time round…it doesn't mean anything.'

'But I don't want to disappoint you.'

'You _couldn't_ disappoint me. Don't be nervous?' I try to ease, cupping his face gently. He sighs, looking away for now. 'Hon if you're really worried….'

Oh Jesus Christ, Jasper was right. I'm bad. I am so bad. I'm going to hell and I'm staying there when this bliss is over.

'We can… work up to it?'

He laughs a little, relief I think, and finally he realises I'm not joking. So I drag him back to the depths of trouble. Hot, heavy, needy, and one hundred percent _bad_.

My head is spinning, my nails scraping, my back arching and then comes the time to retry taking off the dress which I know because my leg keeps attempting to hitch over his hip in the hopes of bringing him closer….and gets stuck. He sees me struggling but jovially leaves me to it, only succeeding in stealing the attention of a slippery tongue and the desire rolling against him.

'You've got to let me up, I can't get out of this.'

I feel him laugh, touching my arms and my hands until finally letting me up to stand on the carpet. Deliberately, I turn my back to him, and slink out of the snug material, tugging it from my hips and letting it pool around my ankles. He sharply sucks in a breath. Casting a look over my shoulder, I can see him staring very intently at my back, falling lower… to the somewhat suggestive underwear.

'You're beautiful…'

'Nothing you haven't seen before.' I tease.

I take my time to turn around because at the moment, I am mostly naked and he is not and that's hardly fair. I should be making a fuss of the fact he never fails to boost my vain ego, but another matter for another time.

'Well, go then?' I encourage, trying not to smirk.

'Huh?'

I bite my lip before offering a very sultry wink. He rolls his shoulders back.

'I'll show you mine if you show me yours.' I have to go on to explain.

' _Oh_.'

With care he slips his trousers down, throwing off the belt with as much care as if he were laying it gently to the ground. His boxers come flying past me so that I laugh outright. Be brave, I remind myself. And breathing in, I slowly turn around. He's got his hand in place.

'That's not fair.' I complain, indicating to him totally covering what he can of a very erect modesty.

However, the look on his face instantly takes the words from my lips as his flattery embraces me. It's not like a dirty kind of gross edible look. It's more like genuine wonder. Like I'm shimmering in diamonds and there's never been anything so wondrous. He looks at me in beauteous amazement, eyes engorging and lips parting. Immediately, I'm feeling very beautiful.

'I could say the same…' and his inclines his head to my chest. Ahh shit, the sticky-tape.

'Hot, right?'

'Surprisingly, yes.' Then he motions for me to come towards him, one finger extended.

Sweet mother of Jesus. Everytime he makes that move, my stomach drops. So I stand in the middle of his legs, trying to get a glimpse but also too focused on his beautiful face.

'May I?' And with the same hand he reaches up towards my breasts and they move in appreciation for him, or rather, my breathing gets heavy and I lean towards him.

A sharp sting arouses my nipple and I cry out just lightly in great pleasure of the sweet pain.

'Sorry.' He mutters, showing the tape he's just tugged free and looking at it highly amused.

Again, I bite my lip, teeth sinking into the skin as his hand moves across. All I have to do is fist a hand in his hair and nod for him to sense the direction of my thoughts.

'Ugh!'

He chuckles again, curling the second piece of tape to a ball in his hand and flicking it away. My mouth waters and putting a gentle hand on that gorgeous shoulder, relishing the feel, I push him back forcefully, knees blocking his hips.

'You're sexy as hell, Doctor Cullen…'

'What?' But he heard me because he smiles.

'You never stop impressing me.'

He doesn't like my scrutiny and fidgets slightly.

Fuck me.

 _Poor_ me is what I should be saying because that baby is going to need a lot of patience… I mean, I'm not a virgin by any means but even someone with a vagina the size of the Grand Canyon would struggle to push that in.

' _Anyway_ …?'

'Yes. Anyway.' I agree, and climb to straddle round him. He groans, head rolling back as his fingertips glide up my spine. I am incredibly turned on and I'm getting hotter by the minute … It's going to require patience. That's just _fine_ though because the fire in my veins is as painful and as aggravating as ever.

For someone so inexperienced, he always knows how to listen to the demands of movement. With my permission, because though we are ninety seven percent naked against one another, with me and my thong, letting the side down, this is still Carlisle we're on about. He pulls me closer to him and I fit so naturally within his claso that I try desperately to mould us together.

Then I feel it's heat puh against the fabric of my own. It's just so noticeable and so thick, better than it was this morning. Than it has felt at any point this week. He feels me shudder closer. A sweet silent whimper falls from his lip to mine when I grind myself against it that he has to groan once more.

And then we laugh gently, like teenagers.

I can't really take in much without sounding obsessed, but by God do we move and we move together. Not even _inside_ one another, simply just sharing warm body heat and passion… and… love.

But I take it the step further and get reprimanded in the making.

'You might have to... ugh, _slow_?' He pants, laughter evading his tone as he reads over me as softly and as beautifully as a grace of God.

'I don't see _why_.' I challenge, raising my eyebrows as I put a flat hand on his inner thigh. He squirms beneath it, throwing his head back out of wonder when I trail it up and tease the oh-so sensitive area.

He can't say anything, he's without words. But without sound as I discover with a lingering trace from my finger tip. He kisses me once more, several times in fact, unable to stop and I share the feeling. Except, I can multitask and with one hand still teasing him, it seems he can't. He all but screams when I grab a firm hand of him, dropping curses from his lip like a sweet song.

'Please be…gentle.' He reminds me, eyes lightening up when move my hand along such a handful. His hands fidget, first he grips the blankets behind before moving along my back again, pushing away my hair from my shoulder and attempting to kiss the skin there.

I say attempting….he freezes midpoint whenever I move my grip, stuck in a groan of ecstacy, mouth slightly parted until it takes mine willingly.

It's a bit of a surprise to say it but things take a kind of slow route and he gently moves my hand away to return to snogging me. Very confusing, I'd almost be a little hurt if I wasn't so hot for him. He lays his body to mine and although I can feel the rock hard skin pushing against my thigh, it doesn't change anything. Every move is meaningful. From the swirl of his tongue against mine or the sweet feel of his hands caressing my hips.

For what feels like hours, with my body going into overdrive through lust, we make out. Right up until I can map out every freckle of his under my finger tip, the curve of his spine when I drag my hand along it, his thick hair falling delicately to my forehead when his kisses turn passionate.

'You're so beautiful.'

'Shhh.' I reply, playfully finally hitching my leg over his hip and feeling the heavy breath fall shakily from his lips as he attempts to cool. I share the action.

The blue eyes are captivating. The sincerity they hold is doubly impressive when you think of how hard his dick is pushing into my abdomen, whether he's trying to calm it or not.

'But you _are_.'

'As are you. But right now, I'm going to combust if I don't _try_ to relieve some of this energy.' I'm not fantastic at pillow talk. So I soften the blow with a bite at his throat and feel him chuckle.

I taste the excitement from the sticky skin on his neck, lowering and nipping at the collar bone as I move lower, nuzzling the beat of his heart and loving the sing of his rapid breaths. He snickers when I lay him flat, one hand massaging the back of my neck near my hair as I tease him in the manner I have done so many times before.

Or at least dreamed of.

His creamy skin pulses in my grip when I tighten my grasp, his eyes delicately drifting closed as my kisses continue to lower. He jolts slightly when I get to his abdomen, sensing I'm about to finish lost favours from today and very almost shaking.

'Es?' He begins, staying cautious though his voice jumps.

It's almost as if I can taste the excitement bubbling at my lips, either that or the rush of blood as it speeds to his-

' _Fuck_.'

Widening my jaw and relaxing my throat, I take him in gently, swirling my tongue around him and relishing the curses that slip from his lips.

He's squeezing his eyes shut, refusing to open them as he breathes through his trembling. It's rather sweet, really. How readily he falls apart around me and that's just when I pump him.

I wet my lips again, exposing his head and breathing on him as he shudders… Despite knowing what I'm going to do, his hand tightens around the bed sheet. He gasps with less than a breath behind himself and the moment I let my tongue drag over all his most sensitive regions… I feel him start to break apart, already too soon. His hips shuddering when I continue to bob my head on him.

Long locks of my caramel curl around his fingers when he tries to restrain himself and keeping my hand moving, my other hand fondling and my lips sucking… I feel the inevitable groans slip into something a lot more desperate.

'Urgh, Es…. I… I'm gunna…'

I press the flat of my tongue to his tip, taste the hot saltiness, squeeze my grip and move in the rhythm to his grunts. He's trying to politely ease himself out of me, trying to do the opposite from thrust between my lips but every time I readjust my mouth around him, his control slips and he falls so helplessly into his cries of pleasure that restraining himself is an impossibility.

He's tight, his body shuddering as I edge him closer and closer, his head thrown back, pleas softening into breaths of desperation…

' _Fuck_.'

There's a shattering of sound and light as he throws his hand out into the lamp, his curses becoming thicker as his exploits slip down my throat.

In utter starvation, I swallow every last drop, licking him clean and clinging onto the taste of him as it drives my own sense of pleasure.

'Fuck…' He murmurs again, apologetically. I loosen my hand, shifting it up to his hip, rubbing his chest affectionately before pulling myself away from his swollen shaft. He chuckles, shyly and then repeats the actions of massaging my hair.

'Did you break the lamp?'

'Uh-huh.' He murmurs, unable to hide the amusement. 'Sorry.'

'Don't be.' I reply with a wicked grin.

'… Es, you didn't have to do that…'

'Tell me you didn't enjoy it?'

'Esme…' He says softly, hint of disapproval alighting his grin. 'It was unexplainably sexy… As are you. But you didn't _have_ to.'

'I think you forget how much of a turn on it is for me getting you off…'

'Oh _really_?' He questions, leaning up on his elbows so I can only just make out his features from the light through the windows. He's sweating a little, as can be expected, and he's warm, he's beautiful and his hair is shifting to the back of his neck.

'Mm hmm.' I promise, running my hands along the inside of his legs. 'I can prove it if you'd like?'

'How about I prove it, instead?' He offers, winking as he leans towards me.

It makes my stomach flip when he kisses me. Mainly because he doesn't shy away from his taste. His tongue licks along mine, as enthusiastically as ever and he makes a show of angling his shoulders to shroud me. He's making love to my mouth without the concern that he can taste himself on me… That is so undeniably… Urgh, I'm so _wet_.

Letting arms slip down my spine, he warms my hips and drops his hands to my thighs. I whine a little as he deepens the kiss, keeping me overwhelmed with excitement when he hooks his fingers in the crook of my knees. Gently, as he leans closer towards me, he pulls me closer, fingers tracing up the goosebumps in my neck as I shudder in desperation.

I ease myself on to his legs, wrapping mine around him and letting him beat against my panties. He looks down, smiles and kisses me again.

'Lacy, huh?'

Red and as suggestive as ever. Alice had no idea how helpful she could be.

'And racy. Of course.' I reply, grinding against him again impatiently. He chuckles, returning my kiss and raising an eyebrow.

'Can I?'

'Please do.'

Saying little else, he moves his hand to my hips, rubbing gently, massaging while his mouth and tongue slip to my neck. I secure a hand on his neck and lean back slightly, letting him find the path down to where I need him.

'Is that a hint, my love?'

'Mm…'

He slides his thumb beneath the lace, along the curve of my thigh knowing how much I itch for more, his kisses wisping past my collarbone, pausing at the swell of my breasts and nipping gently. I can't help it, I tighten a hand in his hair, throwing my head back when I try to rub myself on him out of desperation.

'Are you okay?'

'Please Carlisle…' I groan, lifting my chest higher.

I feel his laugh tickle my exposure, feel his breath on my aroused nipples, feel his thumb slide back to the underwear pressing the material in to me and curse, vividly and expectedly when he swirls a tongue against my nipple. Usually, I would curse his neglect of my right breast but with one hand soothing my shoulders and the other returning the spoils of my wetness to press against me… I'm not going to complain.

He nuzzles my heartbeat, rakes his teeth over the nub, waits till I'm squirming uncomfortably before easing his hand between the fabric and parting my lower lips with a thumb. The lips of my mouth he takes in a passionate kiss before moving down to the right breast to continue his work.

'Did I mention how exquisitely beautiful you are?' He murmurs, burying himself in me, thumb gliding up to spread my juices all along my centre. I gasp, fixing it into a dirty groan and moving closer to him.

'Urgh… I… I need… _fuck_.' He's just started pumping his thumb and for every three times he slides it into me, he finishes it with a circle around my clit. My knees are shaking, my breath hot, my grip tight…

'Need to come?' He guesses, pausing to kiss me and therefore freeing my bitten lip.

'I need you to make love to me?'

'Now?' He asks, eager for confirmation. I deliberately slide against his - _second_ \- arousal and shudder when it sends waves of pleasure through me. He gasps a little too.

I nod eagerly and kiss him, making rhythms that my hips can copy until the heat is teasing my veins. He chuckles when I push him down and angle myself just above the part of perfection- and then hands bring me forward to sit at his lower stomach. Close the the fine hair on his naval. Fuck _David_ , I am making all kinds of love to another worldly being.

Carlisle Cullen is making my head spin.

'Hey!'

'Question?'

I just about roll my eyes but with his hands running up my legs, his thumbs tracing the inside of my thighs, the roll of my eyes is more from desire than annoyance.

'Condoms?' He reminds me, smiling. I _love_ how he used the plural.

Oh.

'Your wallet?' I guess, thinking. He nods, still wearing that gorgeous smile when he gently traces my ass.

'How about I'll go get them…and you…' He looks down my body, the trail of his tongue leaving my nipples wet and my underwear even more soaked. 'Take off such an offensive item of clothing?'

'It would be my pleasure.'

'Or _ours_.' He counters, smirking. Reluctantly, I roll off him, hooking my thumbs between the lace to drag them off my legs but he stays sat on the sheets.

'Well go on then?' I tease. He snickers, tongues my mouth and makes his way out the room. The door he leaves wide open, his glorious biteable ass well in my view line and my heart pounding in desperation.

The underwear I carelessly abandon to the floor somewhere and position myself, centre of the bed with my knees bent inwards.

'Tahh dahh.' He sings, rubbing a hand through his hair when he shows off the glorious gift from Emmett and others. 'You look as equisite as ever.'

'Get over here.'

He does so, failing to hide his beautiful grin, his cock hard as if I never did taste him and his hands, starting from my ankles, running up my legs to my thighs and hips. I snag the packet off of him, kissing his lip, hand fondling his shaft and balls before tearing the packet with my teeth. He groans.

'Do that often?' He murmurs, eyebrow cocked up.

'Surprisingly no. Isn't it funny how experienced someone can be when they're turned on?'

I stare intently onto his face. The Hollywood movie star jaw looks as sharp as ever, his nose thin and his cheeks flushed with his hair finally giving into the casual look. I'm too busy roaming his chest with my hands to worry what they look like but the collar bone feels glorious.

He groans softly, even more softly when I tease him once again. My thumb wipes down the sweet trail of hair on his naval, ignoring the strange scar as I kiss him from above. He tangles a hand in my hair, making love to my mouth while I play. The blue of his eyes doesn't lose its strike of colour, not even in this light. Again, he chuckles and runs his hands along my body till it reaches my cheeks. Face cheeks this time which is a shame but patience is good… apparently.

'Question two?' He looks a little shy again. 'Might I ask that instead of you…showing me what to do… you might just…correct me when I'm wrong?'

Now I'm the one smirking.

'You want to take the lead?' I presume, amazed.

He keeps still for the moment before slightly nodding his head and then doing so again a little clearer. This is new. Very new. I haven't been with a guy who'd controlled the position in years... I couldn't trust anyone. Ever.

'I'd _love_ for you to take the lead. But before I do…'

I raise the open packet to his face, showing it off and kissing him before slinking to my knees between him, hand held out to him. He raises an amused eyebrow and watches me curiously.

'What you're giving me… what we're sharing… I have never before wanted to make love with someone as much as I do with you.' As much as I profess to hate flattery, it's nothing compared to the unusual flush of discomfort whenever I praise him. Inhaling deeply, I pull him closer to me. 'You're my best friend, my world and every moment I spend with you flies too fast for my comfort. Carlisle Cullen… I promise to respect you and everything you're giving up for me, adore you and please you in all manners capable… Would you do the honour of giving me your virginity?'

He doesn't say anything for a second and then his eyes close and he frowns.

'Esme…'

I kiss his mouth, surprised by the utter depth of energy he pours into it. He watches my expression.

'You know how I feel…' He starts to say and then he stops, his cheeks warm.

'You can tell me again?'

He suddenly laughs. 'Is this your dirty secret? You've actually got a romance kink?'

I hesitate before nodding. 'I… apparently so.'

'Then it would be my pleasure.' He returns, nuzzling my nose. 'I love you… everyday I'm with you I fall harder and deeper for you… and to even think about doing this with you…' He sucks in a breath and shakes his head in disbelief. 'I'm in _love_ with you'

I don't know how long we make out for. Not long enough and then again, almost too much.

Unwrapping the, admittedly small, circle of latex, I position it onto his sensitive tip and carefully roll it down on him, though it's quite tight. He groans, throatily, coming up to lean above me in a way that drives me wild. Playfully nipping at my mouth with soft kisses, his hard-on digs into my grip more painful than a fucking boulder in my joints but more welcomed.

That fucking hand of his.

Fuck.

He parts my legs very easily and goes back to touching the skin of my thighs. The touch comes up, it leaves me writhing and moving up towards him before just stopping. But my cries are silenced with the perfection of our toothpaste fuelling my mouth.

The sixth time of doing this and I lose it and grip his cock so he remembers; I'm _not_ a patient person. As the spread of moisture could tell him. But my misbehaviour is rewarded.

He bites my lip, pulling it back a little and nibbling. His hand trailing up, soft slow traces and there it is.

HO-LY

UGH

I gasp out, he nuzzles my nose and those glorious fingers play the perfect tune. I'm soaked enough by this point but his movements are enough to further our entertainment. He strokes the folds first, so that I gasp, running a slow thumb back along the warmth before coming down again and repeating the action from the inside.

'A little to the left.' I pant, whimpering out when he touches against it and almost sends me into over drive.

'There?' He asks knowingly, the smirk evident when he kisses my jaw because my mouth is too preoccupied with either clamping teeth into my arm or crying out in rude demands.

Yet another whine answers him.

'Not… _there_?'

I groan out as a finger slides in, my walls eagerly accepting as much friction as my clit cries out, almost as loudly as I do, For more.

'Well thanks to Edward, we don't have to be quiet' He laughs.

'Don't ever fucking mention _Edward's_ name again when you've got your hand inside me!'

'Sorry.'

That sweet hum of his laughter plays against my face. Though only briefly. Because teeth are being pulled across my erect nipples and I fist both duvet and dick in reply. His sigh is a low one. His thumb traces very gentle circles into the perfect place. Agonising at first and so hot it's causing me pain from the pent up desire to orgasm his fucking face off. Then the movement speeds up.

'You're very vocal.' He murmurs, kissing my cheek but thank fuck, keeping his hands moving as I try to stop my hips from ruining the movement out of need for more. 'It's such a turn-on.'

I half grunt in reply. The demand is heating up, I'm whinging out, panting and it starts to build, my downstairs soaking him in the process and my chest hurting from the attempt to be quiet.

He adds a second finger, easing them into me and watching my erotic performance of cries and gasps of more.

'Keep going.' I plead, moving my hand from gripping his member to his wrist and legitimately gasping when the wrist stops. But it gets worse, my walls tightening around him, my hips bucking-

He removes his hand.

'No!'

'Shh, my love..' He soothes, stroking my face with his other hand and claiming my mouth once again.

At this moment in time, I think I might actually kill him. Fury and desire mix together as I try to remind myself how hot he is despite the fact that all I want to do is fucking shoot the guy. Until he hovers over me, hand on the base of his cock to keep the latex from rolling.

Oh Sweet Lord, bless this moment and ignore all my other complaints. I take it all back. Just give me this.

'Are you absolutely sure?' He asks softly. I nod emphatically. 'Totally?'

' _YES_!' I growl, spreading my legs a little wider for him though he obviously didn't need the guidance. Again, he keeps his mouth on mine for a few more moments before shifting those glorious hips and sliding himself very gently between my soakinng hot core.

I groan, if not half scream, he stops, I cry out again.

'Oh God, are you okay? Would you like me to stop?' He asks hurriedly, keeping horribly still.

' _NO_! Please God, no.'

'Oh.' His mouth parts up into a smile, he looks closely at me again blue eyes reading into me and then moves his hips slightly, letting the smile fall into a short whimper.

There's not really much I can say to explain the feeling of being ripped out from the inside and loving every second of it. There is just something strangely satisfying about having him in such an intimate position. I'd taken quite the few guys, I'm familiar with that. I rarely did the missionary and rarer than that, did I ever feel like my body was so compplete while being so on edge of wave after wave of pleasure.

It's only now I see the shine of sweat on his forehead where the tight lines of concentration are pictured, his eyes squeezed closed and his mouth parted but nonetheless looking beautifully and outrageously hot.

'Are you okay?' I manage to whisper, gripping his shoulders tightly as he presses his warm lips to the side of my neck. I feel him nod and he takes my hand to place over his chest.

Just like mine is doing, and my downstairs too, his heartbeat pounds against my touch like an Amazonian drum. It feels like a continuous song until I listen hard enough to hear the beats, so hard and so close together it's impossible to think of it as separate.

His cheek is flush against mine and his hot breath is sending shivers down my spine as we half shift to accommodate the new feeling of one another. Then I take the initiative. I grasp his ass cheek and use it to push his hips a little deeper. He shudders and breathes deeply again before kissing me once more and moving just slightly.

We both groan and then laugh a little, his slick forehead coming to rest against the damp space of mine, our hair intertwining.

It's insane.

It really is fucking insane.

His movements are slow and I don't resist their lack of speed. I open myself up to it, Encourging our movements to come together and for his waist to align itself so deeply inside me.

Making love is so much more fun.

When he's slow, I can feel it all. The scent and spice of our colognes spilling together as our mouths mould to one another, the way his right hand fists my hair and tangles itself to keep us close and the undying heat buried in our loins as I feel the full extent of him tease the perfect spot.

Even with our sweat and bodily fluids coming together as we move or rather, try not to move, I've never seen someone so perfectly gorgeous at such a vulnerable point.

'You're so... besutiful'

'What?' He whispers, trying not to move too widely just to give us another few seconds of catching our short lived breaths.

'You're perfect.'

His laugh is breathless against my mouth. Then he draws out, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration before thrusting in slowly and completely, shrouding himself in my utter acceptance.

And still, my whole body freaks the fuck out and groans for more.

I don't know how we last so long, even if it's not long. It feels like time is stopping to accommodate the cry of pleasure rippling through me. His thrusts and mine to match it are slow, they're longing and…sensual. Every moment means something and adds to that treacherous need for desire no matter how completely full I am during the movement.

But his intentions are far better than they look. If he's not thrusting love into me, he's soaking it onto my tongue, he's rubbing it into my skin until not only am I fucking rocking for the friction, I'm also feeling incredibly desired. His slow moments speed up a little and though we are by no means _fast_ , we're loving. I'm completely high, sweating out of every pore, my toes curling when he groans once again.

This is another matter which feels like hours but I never want it to end and I cling onto every movement as tightly as possible, etching it onto my brain.

The movements get needier. The high is climbing with sweet movements of our hips swinging together helping to chase it. The itch is more prominent now, the desire furious with only the friction soothing such movements. I need him.

He trembles above me, head angled back slightly gasping out for air and release as the sensation burns through our veins. Our groans slip into a single sound, my nails clawing at his shoulders while I simultaneously fight for more and do my best not to rush the moment.

The waves of pleasure keep coming, they keep building, I keep panting until with several glorious unions, he trembles against the edge. Kissing me, hands gentle and shy against my hips, he shrouds himself completely into my aching core. Skin slapping together as he teases along such a buried pleasure.

' _Carlisle_!'

He's so close, he's so close and I'm tensing, desperate for that little bit more. I can feel it edge, my core tightening, begging for just that little bit more.

'Tell me.' I pant, griping onto his hair and moaning when he eases himself, matching a pace that's making my head spin.

He can barely get the words out. Infact, rather offensively, he has to neglect one need to satisfy another. He pauses, hot breaths spreading onto my naked torso as lovingly as his tongue and exploits have done. His forehead is warm, wet and his eyes are closed when he grins.

I kiss his mouth, I try to take the words from it. I let another hot centre, my tongue this time, work with his so that I can feel him pulse inside me with need.

Inside me. Fuck, that's so hot.

'Esme Platt…' he pants, words the quietest thing to leave our mouths since climbing into bed. 'I am in love with you.'

This time, he doesn't just kiss me. He kisses me at the same time he thrusts. I'm moaning now, English a language lost to my brain when he looks up to me in question. I can't answer so I have to nod, weakly and then desperately.

Thrusting, in and out, in and out… His movements become less stricter, spaced closer together as I take his whole thick cock into me…

'My love... I…'

'Keep going.' I urge him, feeling his whole body tense like a coiled spring. I'm aching, so desperate, desperate for the pay off, needing just that little bit more. The sensation growing and becoming more and more intense, beating, pulsing, flying…My tightness milking him so desperately

Seconds before he comes, he moves his thumb to my swollen clit and generously rubs less than half a circle into it.

It's enough.

His moans become intangible cries against my lips, the climax hitting me hard, clenching and squeezing around his spent cock.

To stop myself screaming as we ride out our orgasms semi-together, I sink my teeth into the base of his throat and silence my obnoxious yells of ecstasy by sucking hard, in time to his fractured clapping of our skin coming together.

I tumble over the edge once again to fall from a far more immense height of sincere pleasure, panting and groaning against him as the same feeling ripples from the core. He's quieter than me but by no means less intense. His moans turn to whimpers on my breasts. Droplets of sweat slip from his forehead, they slide along his spine while his exploits spill right into my depths.

Like a gentleman, he traps them inside of me as we fight hard to find a regular sense of breathing. After such a glorious build, I could happily accept death of most kinds.

'Thank you.'

I wait until there's enough saliva to coat my throat before answering. Honestly, I've given up on the idea of breathing. 'What for?' I return mutely.

'For that. For a better evening. For… _that_.'

When I laugh, I see his head bobble against my chest where he's resting, the dark blonde strands sticking to his forehead.

'I have to admit I am exceptionally impressed.' I mutter after a nice moments pause.

'You are?'

I frown, pulling at the strands of his hair very calmly and pulling myself up a little. He looks even more flushed than usual, a little more tired and a little less animated…not that I'm considering that a bad thing. As I go on to say;

'Carlisle, you made me come like three times today?'

'I did?' He pants wearily, eyes falling closed as he matches my breathing, exhausted.

'Were you not there?'

'No, of course. It's just that I kinda cheated.' He explains gently but not at all seeming offended by such matter. I'm offended for the both of us.

'It what sense did you _cheat_?'

'Used my hands.' He chuckles, barely able to string a sentence together.

'My love… that was your first time… and although you were really fucking close… you're also too ambitious.' I reassure, leaning to kiss his temple.

'Really? I was close?' He asks, in disbelief.

'So close.' I promise. 'Besides, I did still come unbelievably hard...'

'Just from that sentence alone, I think _I_ might orgasm again.'

My eyes keep drifting to a close from utter exhaustion but when he finally pulls out, it wakes me up enough to remember where I am. And I grin.

' _Fuck_.'

For once it's not a cry of pleasure.

'Fuck?' I repeat and then I feel it.

I feel the warm semen slip from my somewhat sore pussy to the bed. I lean up on my elbows to look down at the liquid and then I look over to him, he's a little pale, frowning in concern for me.

'We have a problem…' He starts

I look to his cock, equally coated in as much juice and ejaculate as my vagina and, of course the bedding. Then I look to the culprit; The snagged head of the condom.

'Esme I am so… so…'

'Fuck.' I repeat.


	49. Reasons why secrecy is insensitive

**_I'm so sorry for the late chapter. I hope you're all well and I thank you dearly for the lovely messages! This story is far from over, however it has been running for near-on a year and while I still plan to continue it till it's finished, whether in one story or a two-part companion piece is undecided, the updates may be subject to change. Especially what with life taking it's selfish and distracting course, haha._**

 ** _Thank you as ever for your charming reviews and I hope the following chapters bring as much drama and interest as usual. Of course, I will keep you all throughly updated. Enjoy!_**

* * *

'I swear to you, I had no idea. I-I-'

'You mean we could've gone without a condom this _whole_ time?!' I curse, glaring at his dick and fucking loving and hating it simultaneously. I don't know why I'm hating it, I have no reason to be mad at him.

 _I_ probably tore the damn thing with my teeth.

'What?'

'Urgh, if I knew it was going to split, I would've told you not to wear one! I'm really sorry.'

' _You're_ sorry?' He repeats, sounding unusually alarmed. 'Hon, I've just orgasmed _inside_ you.'

I watch the features on his face change slightly as he starts to come to terms with the sentence, but perhaps fearing over excitement too early on, he reminds himself to be unnecessarily concerned. I raise an eyebrow at him and watch the realisation take place. He's still looking guilty though there's no reason to be.

'Well, it was just a precaution?' I remind him, rubbing up his shoulder soothingly. 'It's not like anything is going to happen, is it? Unless you think you need to get checked...?' I finish warily.

'Es!' He groans, more out of offence than anything else. 'Of course not. I know you're fine. It's just… well it's rude of me.'

'You're upset because it was impolite?' I question, trying not to smirk. The concern in his eyebrows is so endearingly sweet that I physically can't bear to tear my face away.

'No…' He begins, hesitating. 'Well… maybe. I just... It's like walking into someone's house in bare feet. It's just unfair of me, isn't it?'

'In this scenario are we referring to my vagina as the size of a house or referring to your dick as some gross feet? Because either way, it's not sexy.'

I spot his expression and let a snicker eat up my lips and soon, he snickers too and wiping the misjudgement from his flushed cheeks. I wrap a hand at his neck and snog him. He kisses me back, lovingly, guiltily and his thoughtfulness just makes it easier to adore him.

'Don't suppose you have any tissue?' I murmur, looking down ourselves to see where the lack of pubic hair has failed to catch our expenses.

My beautifully blonde muse is staring at it with a similar thought etched between two woven brows. He peers at it as if finally noticing the difference in texture from this morning's fun compared to this evening's. With a grin, he opens up his bedside drawer and passes me over half of his handful to wipe myself off. He does similar, peeling the condom off uncomfortably and glaring with hatred at it.

'Since when do you keep tissue in your drawer, you sex-pest?!'

He gawks at me, raising an eyebrow before squeezing my knee; 'Since my flatmate thought it would be funny to coat me in lube and watch me jack off.'

'That's a total lie, you didn't have tissue in there when we were having phone sex.' This I know for an absolute fact.

He snickers, leaning closer to nuzzle my nose. 'Snooping have we?'

'Are you mad?' I ask, suddenly concerned.

'Besotted.' He corrects. 'And rather alarmed at how quickly the tables have turned. I've gone from being unable to utter the words to shoving it into every sentence no matter how irrelevant.'

'You can tell me again if you want?' I offer, grin lighting up when he kisses me.

'I _love_ you.'

I can't give him words so instead I just kiss him, reluctant to let him go, following his mouth into a smile before eventually pulling away. However, as he stands, rather too quickly, a blank look passes his face. I'm watching him carefully, unsure of the foreign look on his suddenly limp features. He frowns at the floor, hand jutted out when he wavers, dizzily and before I can tell him to sit down, he slips into a heap.

'Carlisle!'

Moving quickly and grasping his shoulder, I'm alarmed to find his eyes are squinted closed. My breath is already leaving my lungs when an exhaustive grunt leaves his lips.

'Shit, are you okay?!' I gasp, checking him over a few times when he puts a hand to his head.

'What happened?'

'You…' It sounds really pathetic all of a sudden. 'I think you fainted.'

'Really?' He pulls himself up to his elbows, even though I reprimand him for it. He can't help but laugh a little more though he's squinting under the light.

'It's not funny, Carlisle, you practically killed over. Are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything?'

He shakes his messy fringe, smiling with his split lip, still obviously sore. Looking more so in this lighting.

'I'm fine… I just need to stand up.'

'I don't think that's a good idea-' I start to say.

'Es, please. The medical expert in me knows I'm fine.'

'Don't get snarky, I was really worried.' I complain, but he kisses my forehead and then my lips. I can't help it, my gaze slips to his abdomen where the colour stands out brightly against his creamy skin. It's as if someone has simply stretched his abdomen over angles of hardened steel. Though it very much looks the kind that would crumble even more under touch. 'It's because you haven't eaten much today. You hardly ate dinner.'

'Probably dehydration.' He adds, making it seem that little bit more normal and therefore easier to dismiss. 'I promise, I'm fine. I just stood up too fast.'

With help, he gets to his feet, inhales and sighs it out, cheeks pink, excusing the red side, with his smile shy.

To make matters worse, it feels like I'm leaking a bucket load and cupping my hands beneath me, I awkwardly waddle to the bathroom. This is apparently hilariously funny and because I've left the door open, he follows in, walking heavily but still grinning.

There's a huge sense of pride that comes from looking at his semi as it slowly deflates and realising I took that with no synthetic help at all. For a bonus, I get to look at his ass, too as he reaches across to turn on the bath taps. While the water is running and foaming in bubbles, he nips downstairs and carries two pint glasses of water even though the water on his top lip is saying he's just reimbursed himself.

'Still thirsty?' I ask.

'Incredibly.'

Passing me one cup, he downs the other in mere seconds so that his throat is exposed, more marks left in its wake all because of my cursed mouth. Although those ones came from love. Not just _love_ but passionate love, full of respect and admiration. They were marks made in the moment but not for it. Their purpose, their exposure and their affect, especially on him… lifelong.

He steps into the water first, shuddering when it catches up his ankles and slides himself into the water. He's exhausted, eyes purpled, stomach still sore and hair disarrayed where I've tugged at it but he sighs blissfully. Stretching his spine and clicking his neck, he holds his hand out to me with that beautifully swollen side smile. I take my time to step into the tub, water warming up my calves before sitting down between his legs, gently pushing my back to him and lying there. He kisses my temple softly, wrapping his arms around my abdomen and pulling me close.

'How are you feeling?' I ask, letting my hands rub the legs against mine, smoothing the bubbles into his skin and giggling when he very gently rakes his teeth against my throat. I deliberately let my fingers knot into his back locks to keep his lips there.

'Never been better. You?'

'Serene...but a little achy.' I admit, shuffling my hips a little. Again, I'm toning things down for our mutual benefit. I'm aching like hell but I'm worshiping every murmur of pain that passes through my nerves. it wasn't pain, it was a reward, a mark of effort... a medal of honour.

'Need any help with that?' He chuckles, sleepily.

Shifting up slightly, he reaches for the soap, lathers his hands generously and rubs around my shoulders, washing them before squeezing the muscles, massaging them deeply. I groan a little, shivering when he washes along my spine, around my arms, under them before hesitating at my breasts.

'You may proceed.'

'Sure?' He asks. I nod, pushing out my chest and resting my head against his neck to give him the luxury. I'm not entirely sure why he's initially shy but he moves carefully, his hands brushing delicately over the nipples, cupping the mass of them and washing the hot water down me. 'You're beautiful.'

'And you're tired…' I murmur.

He washes the rest of my body, letting me return the favour and eventually, helps me up to my feet to wrap a towel around me. It takes a little while longer to change the bedding, with the exhaustion seeping its way into heavy eyelids and a slow walk. Eventually, we just tug the duvet over it all, fold the towels in the basket and climb on the bed.

I'm lying on my side, unable to keep my head up. He crawls over, a hand in my hair to kiss me deeply before lying against my back, bodies into one. He says something briefly about Edward, I think Bella has text us but it's hard to tell with the sound of our tired voices drawn out to lazy lengths.

'Carlisle?'

'Mmm.'

'Thank you.' I wrap an arm around to scratch his hair, pulling his nose closer against my neck. I don't hear much of a reply but I feel those lips pull into its sweet smile.

* * *

Waking up in the morning pressed against him is something even I can't begin to put into description. Having his arms around me, locked against my skin, holding in the warmth is immeasurable in love.

'Morning, my love.' I whisper, over my shoulder.

'Stay here,' he murmurs, a little more sleep sober then me. 'I'll be right back.'

I don't just stay here. While he fusses about downstairs, I brush my teeth and wash my face before returning between the sheets, pulling them to my chest and outlining my naked body. My heart is about three seconds from exploding when he returns. He's carrying a tray of breakfast, just some toast and coffee but it's enough that I want to kiss him again.

He puts it gently on the corner, moving the cups to his table before leaning across, with a hidden grin and gently pressing his lips to mine.

'You're adorable.'

He shrugs shyly, turning on the television and pulling me into his side, though it obviously pains him, for comfort as I drink. It's glorious. It's sweetened to how I like it, without the bitterness. That's just Carlisle all over though.

'How are you feeling?' He asks, taking the slice of toast from my hand and biting off the corner.

Usually I would be annoyed but it's somehow just another stupid thing which has earned another rather foolish grin from my mouth.

'A little sore.' I admit, nuzzling his nose when his expression turns to the beginnings of worry. 'All perfectly normal. How about you?'

'A little sore, too.' He admits, though we both know his is not on account of our choice of entertainment for the evening. He puts his hand to the back pocket of his joggers, fiddles a little and produces an empty packet that I thought we'd long since chucked away. Considering its purpose was _wasted_. 'I also found this…?'

I take it off him, squinting at the words when finally I see it. Two letters. Now I feel really dumb. Maybe more so than him but either way, we are both very stupid and very hasty in our actions.

'Extra small?' I question. ' _Extra_ small?! You're nowhere near small?! Why on Earth did you go for…?'

'Emmett.' He reminds me at the same time I think it.

' _Emmett_.' I repeat, warningly, remembering. 'I swear to God he did that on purpose.'

Carlisle nods knowingly, saying little but grinning just as wide.

'The next time I see him, I'm going to rip his throat out-'

'Not if I beat you to it. It's irresponsible and he knows it.' He adds, his voice stern but his lips pursed. I can't help it, I laugh, kissing the side of his face and repeating the action when I can't bear to stop.

'What?' He questions, an eyebrow raised.

'Nothing…' I sing, hiding my look of mischief by burying my head to his heart.

'Es?' He chuckles, cirling both arms around me and resting his chin on top of my hair. 'What is it?'

'You're so sweet when you're firm.'

The raised blonde eyebrow lifts even more. I've thrown the toast aside. Or back to the damn plate and move hastily to sit at his legs. He's lifted his arms to allow me the space and panning his eyes down my body, his mischievous smile widens.

We are, of course, both naked.

'Was that-?'

'It wasn't intentional but it's true nevertheless.' I explain, thigh to thigh on him, watching those curious blue eyes, their depth and tiredness. He carefully glides a hand over my hip, stroking it up my skin so that it tickles.

'Esme…' He murmurs, when I put my hands very gently to his sides but I'm quicker than he is, at least in this department, and before he can ask me what I'm up to, I have my hand in his hair, my tits at his chest and his semi touching my pubic bone.

'Did I ever commend you for your amazing technique, last night?'

'No.' He replies playfully. 'No I don't think you did.'

'Well, I have to say Doctor Cullen…' I put my lips to the side of his mouth, kiss gently along his jaw, nipping occasionally, tongue running over the pulse in his bitten neck when I take his earlobe. He chuckles, hands sliding up my spine, shoulders relaxed for me when I continue to make him laugh. 'I approve of your talent.'

'My talent?' He repeats with a scoff.

'But as ever… with talent comes hard work.'

I inch closer on his thighs, gasping playfully when he opens the stance of his legs, hands coming up my spine and down again to my ass cheeks and delicately repeating the action until my heart is flying. Almost deliberately, he smooths over the edges of my skin with a silky palm. Unlike usual, they're not dry and not coarse either but that might be because they, and the skin around him, is growing warmer with every second. All he is doing is rubbing my ass, delicately pinching my hips, spreading my legs wider and I can already taste the intoxication of desire salivate on my taste buds.

'Does it now?'

My long toffee waves tickle along his chest, the sweet scent of his natural woodland smell, warm grass and spiced mint shrouding me.

'A lot of hard work…' I continue.

I put one hand back into the longer locks of blonde behind his head, holding his gaze up to me when I make a show of these pert nipples. With the other, I reach behind myself to gather his right hand. I rest it on my breast and squeeze it against my heart beat so that his sigh catches in his throat. My hand can drop now because he knows how to please and tease in all the right manners. He begs for it. I'm begging for it, lip on his split lip, soothing it in my wet clasp and gently letting my sweetened tongue swim against his.

We've barely started and I can already feel myself grow excessively hot. That's only when he's touching me. When he bends his head away from me to suck my nipple, another high pitched groan tumbles from my mouth.

I try not to squeeze his hair so hard with all the other injuries on his body but it's simply a half-hearted accident caused by his enthusiasm to lick along my breast. He breathes on it, then makes the nipple wet and teases it so that the teasing pleasures of energy are running along my nerves.

'Please…' I urge, not meaning for the desperation to make itself known so imminently. Nevertheless, his right hand moves, he gently squeezes my waist in a way that's making me pant and rubbing my thighs, he lets one thumb play above where I need him too.

'Should I-?'

'Please.' I repeat, gasping with he touches just the very edge of my slit. He knows I'm ready, I'm soaking on his balls as we speak. That doesn't stop him though. He bites down a little, screwing with my sensitivity, teeth pressed gently into the pink nub but I'm halfway there, edging for him to just take me already.

'I meant should I go find a condom?'

Shame it wasn't the plural this time but I hesitate and pull his chin up. Admittedly I haven't brought any it a while. There is the pack in the bathroom that Edward and I were discussing the other day. If there's any left. Alice and Jasper did stay over. They normally have to use quite a few just to get her off.

And Emmett is always stealing loads when he can't be arsed to buy his own. What's the point in using something that's going to take away his pleasure?

'Esme?'

'Do we need it?' I ask him gently and I see the glimmer of disbelief wave over his gorgeous features again.

'It's _your_ choice, my love.'

I grin, nuzzle his nose and encourage for his hand to return to the original path of frustratingly glorious pleasure. He waits for me to say something and when I don't, he slows his hand.

'You know I'm not going to do anything without consent.' He warns, an eyebrow raised. He's being stern again. It's making me even more besotted. Oh Jesus, I need him so bad.

'Did you want it in writing, too?' I murmur, playfully, hands still trying to roam him and touch him but he's as patient as a marble statue.

'I'd love it in writing.' He returns with a shrug. 'But verbal will be enough.'

I nod my head, slowly, trying to entice him with my wide eyes, my warm centre. He clears his throat, smirking and I'm even more turned on by it.

'But you _know_ what I want?' I remind him, trying not to grin when I snog him. He chuckles again.

'Do I? I have a choice of four?'

'I want you to make love to me.' I pant rather prematurely, making the words stretch with a sultry drawl. 'I want you to make me come as hard as you did last night.'

He smirks, hands fiddling on my body as I try to work out all these different angles to make them sexier.

'I nearly thought you were going to ask me to fuck you.' He confesses, relieved returning the taste of my lips and once more making my heart and mouth choke when his thumb aligns to the top of my slit again. 'You have a rather devious smile on your face…'

'We have too much time on our hands to fuck.' I reply, pleased. 'I'll have to fuck and be fucked by you in a matter of urgency….'

'So you want me to make love to you?' He summarises, the smile doing its best to make the ferocity of his injuries pass unbeknownst to my sight. 'Even from this position?'

I nod again.

'My love…?' he warns, waiting with that glorious grin of excited satisfaction. Urgh, I love it. I love it so much. I need to be riding him this second.

'Yes.' I mutter, quietly.

'Pardon?'

He's playing with the edge of my slit again so that the pulse beats so hard I'm sure he can feel it on his thumb. Fuck I need him so bad. I'm literally just soaking the both of us in this taunt.

'Yes.' I repeat, louder. 'Oh God, yes!'

He kisses me deeply, using his spare hand to hold my jaw still, thus allowing the passion to pour from his tongue to mine and back again. I come up on my knees, no longer sitting but poised with my nipples digging into him. He takes back his thumb and instead, slides just the tip of his middle finger from glory hole to clit. The natural lubricant soaks him and with his grin against my mouth, he shifts to hold the base of his cock, breath trembling but his features perfectly still.

'Ready?' I ask him. He nods, still biting my lips and holding me close, hands soaked in desperation and delicacy. I'm just about to lower myself on to him when he gently pauses me with a hand on my waist.

'I really do love you.'

Once more, there's something about not just the words but the way he says them, the tone and the purity of thought he puts into them that makes it even easier to fall victim to his charms.

'You're my world.' I reply, kissing him deeply. 'My whole world.' And I love how quickly he's come to understand that I need his sentences. He nods his head for me to continue but I raise an eyebrow and clear my throat, expectantly.

'What?'

'I think you know what.' I reply smartly. He smirks.

'…Miss Platt… I would be forever appreciative if you would do the honours of allowing me to make love to you-'

'That's not what I'm asking for, Carlisle.' Not specifically at least.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. ' _Yes_. Yes I would love for us to make love. Better?'

'Hold the sarcasm next time, Smartass.'

He chuckles and kisses me again, murmuring sweet everything's in my ear and loving me all over while still wielding his cock and rubbing it along my entrance. My moans slip so selfishly off my lips, they could be breaths. Moving slowly, my patience as careful and thoughtful as I've ever had it, I let his tip soak in my moisture. We both shudder, me more so from the direct contact so close to my centre…. He takes his time. Holding me gently, he steadies my hips, inching a little more in so that the head is pulsing inside me.

To be complete honest, I don't know how he's holding it together so well, excusing the parted mouth and the eyes squeezed shut as his onlu give away. It's making me a little nervous… and at the same time, I'm grateful for the selflessness. I groan, panting desperately at his face and trying not to slide onto him so hard. He feels so powerfully good as I move against every fine detail of his erection. The veins, the pulsing shaft, the pink tip. He eases himself deeper into me, waiting until I'm gasping and nearly orgasming on the spot before letting himself come deeper into me.

'You're so tight…' he groans, holding my hips still for fear of the fatally early excitement. 'You feel so… _good_.'

'Hon, please. Please I need more.'

He inches in a little more so that I grunt and tighten my fist in his hair. He's not even fully in yet and I'm squeezing him, needing more and more and ready to just try and come down on him as hard as possible.

'You okay?'

'Please.' I beg, squeezing his skin.

He inhales and very carefully, slides the rest of himself into my depths, a hand poised at my waist to hold my balance when he brings me down with him. I throw my head back and groan again, eyeing his own features of pleasure as he memorises my pussy around him.

'Are _you_ okay?' I return this time because he just keeps making me feel that good that I almost forget to check on his own sense of pleasure.

Weirdly enough, it never feels like I need to. Every smile of his felt like permission to give in to the cries of my body. As if it was a guarantee that by enjoying myself, there would be no better way to turn him on.

All I have to do to make him come, is come myself.

'You feel so fucking marvellous.' He pants, thumbing my nipple again.

I'm not sure if it's this angle or even the fact that I'm getting back aches from how big his hard cock is but my body needs movement and he only has to give in to the tiniest shift to have me grunting again.

'I could come so easily…' he confesses, without energy to be shy when he lowers his lips to my nipple, licking expertly again.

'Could or will?'

'Both.' He groans when I rock my hips along his, my stomach knotting at the bodily need. 'Urgh both.'

'How are we doing this?' I ask, barely able to balance with the edge already coming so close to me. He raises an eyebrow. 'Are you thrusting or am I rocking?'

He breathes again, shifts his hip up to meet mine and clasps me close when we both moan together. Fucking hell making love is exquisitly better than anything else.

'Both?' He repeats, smile struggling to stay on his features with pleasure taking over. While he's still, I rock onto him again, I try to gain a rhythm but with the sensation already sky high, and desperate not to let the moment fly, I have to stop.

'Carlisle, I'm going to come.' I pant, desperately. 'I'm so close already…'

'Yeah?' He asks, more breath than actual sound as he contemplates what this means.

'Make me come.' I beg, frowning hard when I try to grip onto a little reality. Our three week foreplay is so much now that I apparently can't even last two seconds on his dick.

Gloriously, he doesn't let me grip long. He holds me by my waist, kisses me passionately for as long as he can before I'm crying out again and thrusts deep. I'm pleading with him already, the high rippling through my body when he finds the perfect spot and starts to meet every thrust of mine until I'm hovering and shuddering for the slap of his skin pumping into me.

Every bit of him... its detail, every slight sensation of him slipping into me. It's so hot.

'Keep going.' I beg, nails sinking deep into shoulders, my back arched when I try and open myself completely to the ferocious intensity taking my body.

'Fuck. I can't…' He groans. 'I'm on the edge.'

'Please.' I beg, walls tightening around his girth as I plead and beg and pant.

He shifts his hip up again. Hitting me deep and repeating the action all over me. I'm screaming. The high is screaming. I'm moaning, my whines spontaneous and raw under his tongue when finally he edges against it. He, and his fucking glorious cock, keeps rubbing against the highest point of sensitivity. That perfect spot. I peak so hard that my lower half can't help but fall to the actions around it. As he thrusts into me, I drop onto him. The waves collide over knocking me senseless and I moan and cry so loudly that I can barely hear his own cry of pleasure at my tongue. But I feel it. As I'm coming onto him, squeezed around him, his own relief spurts so fiercely inside that my body twinges again and I'm blessed with a second wave, though not as intense, riding out the thrill of him and when its end finally comes…

I collapse forward onto him, trembling with my heart beat pounding against his.

He doesn't say much, he just breathes hard into my hair, gasping almost when he holds me close, trapping our remains together.

Time always manages to slip away when we lie like this. So much so that I'm not even sure if we fall asleep. All I know is the warmth of his cuddle, his open arms, securing me comfortably against his panting chest and not at all concerned by whatever pain he is in. He's lost all cares except for those dedicated to me.

'Did I-'

'Yeah.' I chuckle in disbelief. 'Yeah, you really did.'

'I'm sorry I didn't last long…'

'Carlisle you made me come so hard that I entirely forgot my surroundings. If you'd lasted any longer you would've done so _alone_.'

'So _I_ actually made you…'

'Yes.' I repeat, breathlessly laughing. 'Made love twice and you're _already_ the best I've had.'

'The best?' He repeats, disbelief to the tune of wonder evident in his tone.

'Number one.' I confirm.

'I don't know whether to thank my… self or the lack of contraception for that.'

'You.' I say, soaking in his scent, nose on his jaw, relishing the gentle curl of his fingertips against my neck. 'That was all you. All of it, every bit.'

'I love you…' he murmurs, once more. 'That's the only sentence I can think and the only one that's making sense.'

'Well then, I guess I return it.'

He chuckles dismissively, brushing through my hair with a free hand though he's breathing as sleepily and as deeply as me.

'What a whirlwind…' he whispers into my hair, hand combing it down my back as we pulse together. When he eventually slides out of me, we both shudder hard but he's weirdly thoughtful enough to keep me lying on him in order to capture what slippery mess we've caused. It's more so than yesterday and though I blush at it, he appears midly amused as he balances it on his lower mid-drift. He might be saying words but I'm so blissfully high on him that I very nearly forget to do anything but lie here, perfectly content.

After a few more minutes, he lazily reaches across to grab some tissues and hands some to me. He's a sleepy kisser, verging on the description of sloppy but really it's more of a compliment than it seems. It proves how spent he is. He groans gently, passing me the cold coffee cup to sit up, tissues bundled.

'Do you think he'll ever remember his Goddamn keys?'

'Huh?' I ask, looking at him, draining the bitter sweetness and following his line of sight to the broken window. There's not much to see though the purr of an engine is enough to make himself known.

Surely enough, there's a knock on the door, loud but not unexpected considering that we're all the way up here. Those gorgeous blue oceans roll again and though he goes to move, I slide my hand over his shoulder and cup the marks in his neck as gently as my hands will let them.

'He's probably just needing to drop off the car.' I dismiss, sitting up. 'Why don't I go answer him and you… finish breakfast.'

My hand slips down to his chest and around his stomach, judging the bruises with sympathy and accidently passing over that scar. He unintentionally flinches and then softens it by pulling my hand back to brush against him.

'Are you in pain?' I ask, my voice soft.

'No.' The knocking gets louder. 'Not with you.' He sighs deeply, locking his fingers into mine and laying it against his stomach. 'Never with you.'

A low sigh emanates in the room and though I quickly lean to capture his perfect lips again, his chuckle reminds me of our impatient housemate.

Typical Edward. Gives you five minutes of peace and destroys that peace before it's passed the thirty second mark. It's only Edward though so the bathroom, I simply grab Carlisle's underwear and a jumper and wink at my gorgeous blonde. The knocking is even more impatient on coming closer to the door, louder, athletic. I'm rolling my eyes, wrenching the door open, halfway through a complaint when my eyes open. Wide.

'Emmett?'

 _EMMETT._

'How long does it take to answer the door?!' He complains, frowning down at me with a grin. I'm suddenly regretting not showering. My hand goes into my hair, trying to brush it back, to tame the chaos and cover the scent of… _us…._ when suddenly, his large frame, and the expression to match it grows.

'Oh my God-'

'What are you doing here?' I interrupt, reeling back from him in confusion but he gets louder, thoroughly dismissing the question.

'Oh my _God_! You finally got fucking _laid_!'

'Emmett!' I gasp, glowing brighter than I might have ever done three weeks ago. He's barely stepped through the bloody door. Which I now hastily slam shut.

'Jesus, look at that grin. You _so_ got laid! Go on,' he probes, poking my stomach like an older sibling though I slap his hands away. 'Tell me; who's the lucky fella?'

'Em,' I growl, desperate to get him off the subject but my sentences aren't coming together. 'Stop it,' I hiss, trying desperately to shut him the heck up.

'He's still here?! He _actually_ stayed the night?!'

'Emmett!'

'Blimey, Es. You've changed your ways.' But his laughter grows louder. 'Go on, holler up to him. Let's see what the newest one is made of.'

'I'm not hollering to anyone. There's no one-'

'Was it worth it?' He asks but he immediately answers his own question. 'Course it was, look at that hair. I've seen Lions with thinner manes than that.'

I'm about to groan again when I'm caught by the mumbled sentence falling, without acknowledgment, from a third set of lips.

'-that perhaps the lack of condom made you more sensitive-' He stops, falling to the bottom step with a heavy foot and looking immediately from our guest, whose mouth has fallen open, to me. 'Emmett?' He questions, once confused and now irritated. 'What are _you_ doing here?'

I'm wondering if he's thinking about the same thing I am; that fucking condom.

'No fucking way?!'

Suddenly alarmed and spotting my blushing horror, he looks down himself to eye his boxers and swallows like an apple is lodged in his throat. He's still not completely flaccid yet. Even if he was…

'No _WAY_?!' He yells, grin taking over that beaming freckled face like a fat kid with eyes on cake.

'Emmett…' Carlisle starts, rather pathetically… 'Nothing happened….'

Really?! He's playing the _lying_ card?! Has he seen us?!

As if to answer, Em strides over to him. Carlisle shifts, standing up taller but letting his jaw lower as he places his held hands over himself. Suddenly investigator McCarthy is judging every inch of his exposed and blushing skin. The midnight blue catches mine, frown more severe with a look of warning. He's asking permission to rant at him. For once the answer is no. Not yet.

'Well either you've both been involved in a horrendous fight or you've fucked.' He laughs, and then takes in the sight of Carlisle's colourful neck, his split lip currently being hidden by teeth, his stomach and clears his throat, glaring at me as if to tell me off. 'Really… _really_ hard.'

'Actually-' Carlisle starts to say.

'Look at the two of you!' And another round of laughter takes up his chest. 'I _so_ called it. I just didn't realise you would be so rough with each other?'

'We weren't.' Carlisle snaps, expression hard. Either he's annoyed by the comment or he's thinking about the condom. Perhaps both.

I don't know how it's happened, one minute I was demanding for him to never breathe a word of this and next, I'm confessing our sins. Placing myself almost between them, I press my fingertips to Carlisle's hip, and raise a flat hand at Emmett. It sounds naïve to say of the most jovial man on the planet but I have never seen him grin so much.

'You can't say a word. A fucking word, Emmett.'

'So you _actually_ did have sex?!' He demands, eyebrows bursting of off his face as my saints crumbles a little.

'We're not discussing-'

'You actually _fucked_?!' He repeats, louder, looking from me to the blushing landlord. ' _YOU_?!'

'Emmett!'

Like an absolute child, he throws an arm around Carlisle's shoulders and half hugs him though the resistance and embarrassment is clear.

'No wonder you didn't answer the bloody door, you nymphos!'

The grin is ecstatic.

'Not another word.' I repeat, pointing at him. I feel the exhale of a breath on my neck and pull the jumper a little lower over my hip. 'What are you _doing_ here?'

This second sentence comes out more as a sigh. All I wanted was one blissful day of ignorance. Just Carlisle and I. For us both to guiltlessly revel in our entertainments, to devote that shared secret to each other… It lasted less than a night.

'It's Sunday?' He says, obviously.

He's still looking at the two of us with an expanding smile but I've frightened Carlisle enough that he stays rigid. He doesn't want to alter the situation to anything worse so he just stands there, silent, eyes on him like predator to predator. The only threat Emmett posed is that engulfing mouth of his. On cue, because someone upstairs clearly hates me and is punishing me for the virginity theft, Edward comes striding through the door, hollering as if he expected us to be upstairs. Then he looks to the small cluster of the three of us. And our apparent lack of appropriate clothing.

'Oh Jesus.'

Carlisle breathes out a little more. I can't tell if it's in a manner of disbelief or relief but his hands go to his forehead and he fights not to look at me.

'Err… hi Emmett?' The boyish smile turns crooked under our watch. He tries to say little. 'How's… err…'

'Where were _you_?' Emmett asks, chuckling. 'You nearly missed this whole revelation.' He gestures to us, as if we're a cute little picture of macaroni he made at nursery.

'Errr.'

'Emmett. Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut!'

He jumps, still jovial as he looks at Carlisle's hard expression and attempts to calm himself with a sincere apology. 'Sorry… I forgot…'

'Don't forget. _Don't_ mention it.' He reminds, threateningly.

'You're not telling the others?' He suddenly realises, smile falling when he realises we're absolutely serious.

'Obviously not!' I say, thrusting my hands in the air in case they go to his neck. Edward is fighting his smile, he keeps trying to catch Carlisle's eye but like an obedient guard dog, he refuses to let himself waver in my presence.

'But-'

'But nothing, Emmett. Drop it.' He reinforces, a new tone coming out in the form of a lost accent. It's kinda cute…

'Okay, I won't mention it…' he says quickly, surrendering eagerly. 'But Edward _is_ right _there_.'

'I _know_ , Emmett.' He dismisses with a laugh.

'Edward!'

'You _know_?!' He questions, beaming once more. Carlisle is rubbing his forehead with a squint and the two boys laugh as carelessly as if they were discussing some dumb video game match.

'Of course I _know_. I've had to put up with it for-'

'Do you mind?!' I interrupt, hands coming up again. They suddenly remember not only where they are but who they're talking about and smile guiltily.

'Sor-'

'Don't apologise, don't even acknowledge anything. Not another word.'

No one says anything. Which for once is blissful because it means Carlisle is happy to back me up as necessary. Both boys look to one another…to Carlisle and then the floor.

'If either of you say one thing, if you allude to it, suggest it or simply confirm anything-'

'There's going to be trouble.' Carlisle finishes, tightening his jaw.

Both of them nod. Until someone can't resist temptation and raises his hand. Those blue eyes roll.

'What, Emmett?'

'Okay, not another word. I won't say anything… but… you know….'

'What?!' He repeats, exasperated.

'It's a little obvious…' He starts gently, loosening it with a shrug though my growl grows louder. At least it's safe to say we're both completely over our morning together. There's no better destroying of hormones than these two jokers ruining my day. 'And Alice is outside…'

'WHAT?!'

FUCK.

The fingertips force a grasp on Carlisle's arm, my jaw drops open. I am so fucking screwed.

'I've got to get dressed-' I blurt, turning on my heels and up the stairs. I don't hear what the boys say, nothing from what I can hear but I know they're desperately trying to crack a smile.

And I shouldn't but I love the fact that he's struggling to stay so unbiasedly neutral.

* * *

It's the quickest shower I've ever had in my life. Followed by perfume soaked into my skin and because I don't have time to tug on jeans, I pull on a summer dress and trainers.

'Es-'

'Shit!' I say, bumping into Carlisle so perfectly that my breath jumps. He's looking shy and guilty and despite everything I've demanded, I suddenly wish I didn't have to drag him down with my secrecy. He wanted to be open about it and I want to let him…

'I'm so sorry…'

'Hon, I'm sorry. I don't have time, Alice is outside…' He looks a little hurt but nods understandingly and steps from me. I pull him closer in the last second. 'But it's not your fault. Let me just see what she wants and I'll be back.'

When I kiss his lips, he lingers a little longer than he should, breathing me into him so perfectly that I almost forget about Alice. Almost. The worrisome smile is still on his face and though it should be a little pathetic… it's also really sweet of him.

'You look lovely.' He sighs, lowering his gaze to my dress and smiling gently. It's irritating how much I want to throw myself at him or even watch him get mad and yell at Emmett but it's not really the time or the place. Especially if Alice is outside.

I grab the earrings last minute, kiss him on the cheek and run down the stairs, flying past the two who have randomly moved onto discuss some baseball match that was on T.V. the other night.

'Good luck, Es!'

'Shut up, Emmett.'

Luckily and unluckily for me Alice is sat in the driver's seat of her little yellow car. She's looking patient but happens to be drumming her painted nails along the steering wheel and acknowledges my presence with a sly grin.

'And what time do you call th-'

For no real reason, or in fact all of the reasons pertaining to last night, I pull her into my arms and hug her tightly around the shoulders. She's slightly stiff but warms to me and before long she's squeezing me back just as hard.

'You know what I'm going to say.' She murmurs, eyeing my frown with a smile.

'I can guess.' I sigh, working my soft waves behind my ear and leaning back into the seat. She rolls her painted eyes and turns on the engine, already pulling out of the drive. Carlisle waves from the window, now dressed and she waves back, enthusiastically with her mouth shut.

The silence is a little concerning and even though she puts the radio on, it does little to put me at ease. So far so that it gets to the point that I'm breathing hard. It takes some time but she eventually pulls up at a park, open space greenery against my tired trainers.

'Fancy a walk?'

'Are you up to something?' I reply, checking around to check our surroundings.

It's an overcast day, threatening to rumble at any moment, the clouds making the scene dark and unwelcoming. She's unfazed and even though a glimmer of wonder crosses her face in response to my dress she simply locks the car and starts walking south. Down the tarmac path towards the large fountain in the middle of the park.

'You look nice…' she says suspiciously and because I can't bear to try and work out what she's saying I just nod.

'You're wearing a dress.' She reminds me, smile growing as if to ease me from my sudden shyness. Like a child I shrug, kicking at my feet. I hadn't noticed much, it was just a dumb dress. 'Esme?'

'What?' I mutter.

She rolls her eyes again. 'Don't give me that guilty face, smile will ya?'

I look miserably at her.

'Smile once and then we can talk about what happened.'

'I don't want to talk about it.' I say, firmly and suddenly just the freedom of not being in Carlisle's presence is enough to open up Pandora's Box. I don't have to pretend I'm okay, I don't have to be sympathetic and I don't have to be strong.

All of a sudden I'm balling my eyes out.

Alice is better at dealing with this than either of the boys and though I feel even guiltier at how inconsistent I can be with my emotions, I'm grateful it's her wrapping her arm around my shoulders. She pulls me down to a bench and with the cooling breeze nipping at my arms I find it's easier to cry even more. It takes a good four minutes of shock to regain myself. She's rubbing my back, smoothing my hair and smiling awkwardly.

'How did you know?' I gasp through my sobs.

She looks guilty but reaches into her bag to find her phone. I shrug at it. So she unlocks it. Sure enough, as if our day couldn't get any worse. There's a report of last night.

'Who even wrote this?' I groan, snivelling. She shrugs, leaning back into the metal bench and eyeing the tree above her.

'Are you okay?'

I don't answer.

'Okay then, how about Carlisle? Is he okay?'

'I… I think so.' I say, dabbing at my face with the back of my hand.

'Oh Babe…' She hugs me again, properly and for the first time in three weeks, I know she's hugging me without any intrusion of judgement or confusion.

The article is just a local newspaper thing. Nothing special at first except praising the efforts and hard work of everyone present, commending the decorations and celebrating the event. That lasts about six lines of the double spread. About thirteen lines are conspiracy theories to do with Mr Cullen, other lines are faulting the excess and pompous display of money and the rest… the rest is centred on Carlisle.

It starts from bad to worse, outlining him as somewhat simple, almost spineless and without enthusiasm for the event. The damn journalist even argues that he looked ' _as if he wished he were elsewhere._ ' What was once a face of welcome and positivity 'underwent changes of misery escalating to full blown dread'. I'm not so overwhelmed anymore. Not with how hurt he is, or how much pain he is, and was, in. Not thinking about how he set all that aside to give me the best twelve hours of my life.

I'm angry.

Stupidly, I continue scrolling through the phone, irritated by the more hurtle of abuse when a line is thrown to me, criticising Carlisle's interest in ' _his shapely escort_ '. My fury doesn't miss the suggestion. Not for a second but I move on furiously. It mentions a few more things, suggesting our eagerness to leave. To give the writer his due… it's not untrue. I just hate how improper he makes it sound. All of this snowballing into 't _estosterone fuelled chaos_ ', a scene which should've been avoided but for the _'juvenile hormones of the males present._ '

He's made it sound like Edward and he were fighting. He's written about how I went ' _running into the Younger's arms'_ and fought, ' _through tears_ ' for forgiveness. It even goes so far as to refer to the scene as an 'Arthurian legend', claiming me as the ' _foolish Guinievere, stuck between the choice of a harrowed and beaten Arthur, compared to a charmingly suited Lancelot._ '

'That's-' I start to growl.

'I know it's not but it's one of them…'

She takes the phone off of me and scrolls through a couple more posts from social media, complaining of how severely ' _schooled_ ' the young Doctor was. There is only one post which is semi-accurate. It accuses Mr Cullen of various other immoral acts, based more on money than that of relationships, and supposes how ' _in a fit of rage_ ', he ' _viciously_ ' attacked his son.

I shouldn't be as mad as I am considering how much support there actually is in referring to Carlisle as the maimed ' _young intellectual'_. However, my skin prickles and my blood boils the more I think about this shitty article getting all the attention.

That's why it's getting all the attention. Because it's bollocks.

'Is that why you wanted to see me?!' I demand, venom pouring into my words as I take a new stance on Carlisle's injuries. 'You just needed to see if it's true?!'

She gasps. 'Esme, of course not! I wanted to see if _you're_ okay. Which you're clearly not.'

'I'm fine.' I snap, lip curling.

'Did you want to try that again _without_ sobbing?'

'What is your problem?!' I yell, shoving her phone back to her. 'What have I done to make you hate me so much in the last few days?!'

Alice is even more against crying than me so to see her jaw drop in the frustration of tears is enough to make me shiver.

'Why do you think I _hate_ you?'

'Alice you've spent every day criticising me. Every moment is centred on you second guessing my stupid decisions and if you're not pushing me in a certain direction, you're waiting for me to explain myself!'

'Esme-'

'I can't do it anymore!' I burst, the sounds louder and more extreme than I wanted them to be. 'I can't make you happy without being something that I don't want to be.'

'What does this have to do with me?' She interrupts, far more contained than me as she wields that disgustingly patronising concern. 'Babe, your happiness is my happiness. You're my best friend, why-?' She stops herself, breathes in and flicks her hair back. 'What do you not want to be…?'

'That.' I say, pointing to her cell. 'All of that. Escort? _Escort_?! Of course it's only foreseeable that someone like _me_ would be allowed to fuck him but _God forbid_ if I _actually_ -'

'If you _what_ , Esme?'

I turn away from her, jump to my feet and circle a little, breathing as deeply as Carlisle was doing with his three second rule. For no real reason, I try it. My lungs are happy for the break and immediately the oxygen flows into my blood stream like water down a mountain. When I focus on my surroundings again I'm satisfied not only to find Alice patiently playing with the belt loop of her jeans but that she's also wearing a plain look on her face. If she's judging me, I can't see it.

'He got me a job.' I say quietly. She pats the space next to her and moves side to allow me space. It's quiet for a few more seconds, I fiddle with my hands, the hem of my dres, I kick up my trainers and eventually, I take the seat next to her. 'A really, really amazing job-'

'Carlisle?' She guesses.

'It's a huge opportunity, it'll be fantastic for me…'

'But?' She goads.

'But I can't say yes without feeling like it's a mistake. He wants to _move_ , Alice.'

'I know he does…' She murmurs and when I slump lower, she takes a hold of my hand and loops her fingers through to squeeze mine. Her hand is slight, more nimble than my own and wholly different to Carlisle's. The warmth is a different kind too but running at a similar temperature.

'I've lived with him for three years. He's the only stability I ever had…'

Well him and my hair. I've had the same haircut since I was eleven.

'I know.' She murmurs, again.

'And that's what we were discussing in one of the bedrooms. This other option. His father caught us as we were coming out and gathered the wrong impression.'

'Didn't you try to explain?' She asks, slowly. 'That you weren't doing anything?'

'It was pointless. He kept hurtling all this accusations and Carlisle just reached the end of his rope and…well… Eustace basically had one of my paintings and wrecked it. You know Carlisle, he can't stand for any kind of injustice and he just… lost it.'

'Lost it?' She repeats. ' _Carlisle_?'

'His father kept nitpicking at me, he had been doing so all evening and one comment…pushed him over the edge. He punched his father, sent me downstairs to then accept the onslaught of violence and I rushed to find Edward to stop it.'

'That makes sense.' She murmurs, still supportive.

'But my boss was downstairs and after a few further revelations… Carlisle got even angrier.'

'Angrier?' She questions, eyebrows joining. 'Because he doesn't like your boss?'

'It's a bit worse than that.' I say. The air is colder, it really will rain soon and I'm wondering why she's brought me outside instead of her warm house. I guess it was easier to talk in the cold. Words come out hastily rather than having to be nurtured with a cup of coffee.

'…Es…?'

'I hate this. I hate what this is doing to me. I've been crazy these past through weeks and if I'm not screaming at someone, I'm sobbing.' I try to dry whatever marks there might be on my face in order to make myself seem more presentable but her hand squeezes tighter.

'Are you… trying to tell me something?'

My shoulders shrug and I squint ahead with my eyes on the cracked marble of the fountain. It's so gloomy this morning, or this afternoon. I haven't even checked the time, I haven't needed to.

'Is this something to do with the coat and the cardigan?' She asks, her voice raising slightly. I nod. 'Esme…? What's going on?'

My sighs are heavy, full of all the weight and grief of the start of the month. It's making me feel sick.

'King… he's just been…' I cut myself off and rub my head. 'He tried to get me to give him a blow-job.'

'Your boss?!' She shrieks.

'If Tilly hadn't of walked in…'

'Tilly?!' She repeats. ' _Tilly_?! That insipid cow! That's why she accused-'

'Yeah.' I say quietly.

'She fucking knew and she-'

'Yes.'

She sucks a breath through her teeth and sharpens her jaw, her small hands are curled, the hand in mine fighting to not crush me. 'And Carlisle knows?!' She repeats through her pursed lips.

I hesitate.

'He knows little bits. He knows that I was…spanked.' My gut turns to metal, hardening and weighing me down. She gasps.

'Spanked you?! Oh my God… that guy from the bar. He grabbed your ass?!'

I nod. The understanding is hitting her at speed and with every new realisation, her face reveals more hasty disgust.

'Is it…?' She stops, her spikes flicking out from her cheek like the perfect threat. 'Was it bad?'

Just when I'm about to nod, a tear slips down my cheek again. Confused, I touch it and look up, there's a gentle rumble, like a hungry stomach. It gets louder and as it reveals its starvation, heavier tears start to fall onto my skin.

'I still have the bruises…'

'Oh…' She gasps again, looking at me though I've tilted my face to the rain. 'Esme… I'm so sorry… are you okay?'

She suddenly looks like she wants to cry.

'I'm okay.' I say, nodding. 'He's really been struggling with it, though. I've never known him to be so… _hurt_.'

'Why are you worrying about him, Esme? You're the one whose…' She stops and shakes her head. 'I feel for him but… you've got to put yourself first.'

'We are. He is, too. He's just so… angry for me.'

'Why?'

'I don't know.' This is a slight lie. I know why he's angry for me and I know he's putting me first. Yet I also know it has nothing to do with jealousy. The rain is getting heavier, falling without pattern onto my skin and cleansing away the shame. 'I think he's concerned. I'm not angry Alice, I haven't been in a while. I'm just…a mess.'

'You're not a mess.' She refutes, frowning cringing from the raindrops.

'I'm so emotional, though.' And I feel safe enough to share a shy smile, she sighs again, still gripping my hand.

'It's perfectly normal… It's normal for both of you to be acting warped…' She looks like she wants to say more but she stops herself and changes the subject. 'How is he?'

'Bruised.' I answer honestly and I forget myself enough to realise this is a comment that doesn't go amiss.

'Bruised?'

'His poor abdomen. He's sore right the way down to his…What?'

'How do you know that?' She asks, a slight smirk appearing on her lip.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

'I was there…' I say, shrugging but she shakes her spikes. 'And I… needed to check to see if he's okay?'

It's pathetic. Really pathetic but she nods.

'Judgements aside for ten minutes…' She murmurs and I let out a full breath. 'How ripped is he? Jasper says he's _always_ working out.'

I forget myself completely.

'Jesus, Alice. He's _gorgeous_. Not an ounce of disgrace on his shape and that's after he's been hurt.' I gush, more droplets of rain soaking into my hair and shoulders. 'He's magnificent.'

'I would say that I'd pay to see that but I think I'd be more interested to see you speechless for once.' She laughs, leaning into my shoulder. 'I've missed you.' She sighs.

'I've missed you.' I reply, knowing how true it is and how grateful I am that I haven't had to miss her too much.

* * *

From the short walk back to the car, the rain pours harder. I try to say I'll phone the boys but I can't find the damn thing anywhere. It's just typical I choose to wear a dress in this awful weather. It rains so hard that I'm soaked through, my hair clinging to my face and every inch of my exposed skin damp with the weather.

'Spend the night?' She asks once we're back in the car. 'We haven't spent enough time together.'

It's difficult not to offend her so I tread the lines carefully and let my expression give her answer enough. She combs through her fringe, eyeing her make-up in the mirror and pouting at herself.

'It'll be fun?' She promises. 'Like a girl's night?'

'I'm laying off alcohol for a while.' I explain, pleased that we've managed to go a full twenty minutes without me lying. 'I don't want to risk temptation…'

'We don't have to drink?'

I wring my hair out into my lap, letting the moisture soak through the dress, too.

'Aren't we meant to be camping next Saturday?' I remind her. 'I'll stay then.'

She rolls her eyes but still offers a genuine smile when she turns the heaters on.

If I thought the rain was bad, it's worse when she parks up on my drive and though she promises to text me, hugging me tight, she doesn't fight my decision to stay home. She even waves to Carlisle at the front porch.

It rumbles louder, a flash of lightening coming up followed by another roar of weather. He pushes the door open behind him with his hand and grins at the state of me. I stand silently in front of his stance as we wait for Alice to drive past, my eyes cautiously on his shoes and my smile shyer than his grin. The moment she's gone, he frowns gently at me, holding me still though I'm soaking his skin.

'Is everything-'

Instead, I lift myself up to him and kiss him. Selfishly, I take the words from his mouth and align my lips to his. He holds me close, more to hold his stance when I push him through the door with a chuckle, attacking him lovingly with my lips and quite literally leaping up into his arms.

He catches me with a stumble, hands cupping my ass beneath my skirt because there is literally no other place for him to put them. A blush is creeping on his cheeks when he looks over me.

'We have… company.'


	50. Reasons why revenge is sweet

_**Again thank you all so much for your patience and persistence. Small but significant steps. Thank you all so much. Please leave your comments!**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

'Company?' I say, warily. My nose is pressed close to his and though his blush is the sweetest thing to grace my sight, the words are enough to give me a bit of concern. I lean back on his hands, arms locked safely round his neck to judge what sort of company.

Smiling is good. Blushing is troublesome.

'Hon, you're drenched?' He laughs, the sound gentle like a warm coat.

'It's raining.'

'That's a good thing?' He guesses, seeing the relaxed curve of my mouth and accommodating it.

'It's a great thing.'

'Well… I think I'm about to spoil your good moo-'

' _Uh, yeah, Carlisle. Harder Faster. More.'_

He glares to the ceiling and gently lowers me safely to the floor. My eyes have narrowed, I'm glaring with so much energy that I don't even hear Carlisle try to save his friend's life. Instead I feel the acid start to irritate my flesh. I can't physically see who dared to open their foolish mouth but I know where they all are. Centred on the top of the stairs, giggling and calling down. Their shoes are giving them away. My friends are ten year olds.

'Hon?' He whispers.

'What?!'

He chuckles though he shouldn't. 'I said; please don't be too angry. He's very drunk.'

'Drunk?!' I repeat. They were fine earlier! 'How can they be drunk at…'

Turning his wrist, I find it unusually naked. He's not wearing his usual watch. The TV is off and the clock on the wall hasn't worked since Emmett through a baseball at it.

'Eleven?' He offers.

' _Don't stop! Uh, yes. More.'_

'Eleven in the morning?!'

ASSHOLE

'I think Jasper got hammered the night before. He hasn't sobered yet.' He draws a thumb over the crease of my eyebrows. 'I'm-'

'Don't you _dare_ say it. If _you_ apologise I'm going to scream.'

He nods and rubs the back of his thick hair, stepping away to find me a towel and dabbing it across my face.

'If you juvenile little fuckwits don't get your asses down here in the next second, I'm going to pulverise you all!'

'Es…' He begins, gently.

'NOW!' I yell. It's enough to place him back in the role of amused observer.

Reluctantly, with their heads bowed to their grubby, worn shoes and still sniggering, the three boys descend the steps. Carlisle is right though I wish he'd just kept silent about the whole ordeal. To leave me to discover the obvious. Jasper's southern drawl of his native tongue is heavy in his laughter. It's slurred too. His red eyes aren't quite able to focus on the two figures (ahem; us) in front of his heavy fringe and a vacant, lost smile is stuck on the side of his face as if he stapled it in the night.

Must have been one hell of a shitty celebration if _Jasper_ is looking this bad.

'Now whose the smart-ass who thinks they're hilariously fucking fu-'

'We're Sorry.'

'Too late!' I reply, jabbing a pointed finger their way. 'Who said it?!'

No reply as they all look to each other and finally Carlisle. He, being the clever well-to-do surgeon in the making, looks away because he realises the danger in acknowledging their regret is far greater than the danger of simply eyeing his shoes. I bet he wishes he wore running trainers, too. Though the only think worn about those was the sponge from the inside. To this day they still look factory-new.

'It was Jas-'

Jasper elbows the Bear in the stomach, forcing an unexpected animal yelp from his open smile.

'And why does _Jasper_ -'

'Don't give me that look, Es.' Em whines, tilting his head as if patronisation is the greatest form of flattery.

'It was Edward,' Carlisle explains, voice low.

'Dude! What the fuck?!' Edward moans, sneering at his buddy. It's only fair. How _dare_ Carlisle actually mature enough _not_ to defend the baby. How _mean_ of him.

He'll be locking the babygate next. Taking away the toys. Soothing the diaper-rash.

'What the fuck?' Carlisle responds, sarcastically. More so than my interior monologue. 'I'll tell you what the fuck. What the fuck to a so called _bachelor_ party. What the fuck to an X-rated pop quiz and What. The _. Fuck_ to a size -'

'Dude!' I hiss, stopping him by taking a hold of his arm. He's warm and though excitable in his speech, I know he's not angry. He's irritated. Flirting with disbelief as he always does.

'Lover's tiff?' Jasper mocks, lips curling to that awful side smile that I'm desperate to punch off his face.

' _Fucker's_ tiff more like. You should see the state of him-'

' _Emmett_!'

'Come on!' He groans, hands coming up. 'I said _one_ thing! Nothing compared to chatterbox over here, relaying _all_ the positions he'd caught you in-'

'WHAT?!'

'Ooops…'

'I've had to deal with this all morning-' my utterly unreliable and suddenly self-involved Saint whines petulantly, turning from them like the smell of adolescence makes his nose turn. ' _You_ handle it.'

'Me?!' I repeat, trying to stop myself from yelling at him. It'd be best if I refrain from overreacting before he has the chance to offer a smile and the reminder of what a joke consists of. 'Edward, you haven't caught us _anywhere_ -'

'I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, it just slipped out-.'

'We didn't need to know it in _that_ much detail, Kid.' Em jokes, falling into a round of loud laughter with Jasper echoing loudly, slapping each other like seals in a circus on acid. Carlisle is scrubbing his forehead, fiercely, trying to rub away both skin and brain cells.

'Slipped out?' I repeat distastefully.

'Gotta love a hot shower, right, Es?' He continues to snigger. Eyeing my fury, he's roams his palms around his logo t-shirt, rubbing himself in mockery to most porn videos. And what I assume is his presumptions of me in the shower. 'Something about steam and tits that just-'

'Enough!' Carlisle snaps and considering he dismissed his own involvement, the sudden sharp volume makes me jump. 'You've had your fun. Mocking me is fine, but I advise you seriously reconsider where you're going before opening your mouth -'

'I _can_ fend for _myself_.' I remind him, looking wide eyed at his plump split lip.

'You shouldn't have to against your _friends'_

 _'_ Come on Carlisle. It wasn't meant like _that_.' Jasper murmurs, shrug nearly pulling him to the floor. It's almost too late. The expression isn't one of laughter anymore. Edward is throwing himself into words of defence but with a hand slicing motion, our saint shuts him up.

'Don't forget what you are saying and in whose company. Three men discussing the bedrooms habits of a lady is beyond inappropriate-'

It shouldn't do, but this comment pisses me off. Only half as much as Emmett's guffaw; 'But, Es is _hardly a_ -?'

'Woah, woah, woah.' I interrupt, a hand waving in the slapped face. 'No. Too far.' I warn him, concise and neutral but not hard when I'd address him. With his teeth edging on the slit, he composes himself. 'You're going too far.'

'It's not okay that they talk about you in such a manner-' Carlisle retorts, frowning. It's obvious he thought I was intending to silence Emmett. This has thrown him. I continue to shake my head.

'Hon, think about what you're _saying_. Fine, they might seem disrespectful in your view.' He frowns at my words though continues to at least pretend like he's listening 'and I admire that but you're forgetting _who_ you're discussing. Emmett was my _wingman_?'

 _'Was?!'_

 _'_ But-' Carlisle says.

'These guys have known my bedroom habits better than _me_. Who do think I got all my experience from?'

His jaw unhinges.

'Okay…' I realise, tensing up with vomit inducing horror. 'I did _not_ mean it like that. What I meant was you don't need to be unreasonably defensive. They're used to me openly recommending techniques. This is _their_ 'normal'-'

'I'm so confused.' Edward groans, looking between his buddies and the two of us, facing each other in the easiest and gentlest argument I might ever have had. 'Are we getting yelled at or not?'

'No.' Carlisle sighs, tiredly. Looking up at me with such apologetic and understanding eyes that I can't quite believe he's a real person. Nor that he's accepted my retort with no smart ass retort. 'No. I'm sorry. I jumped the mark.'

'Actually, yes.' I correct.

'What?' Jasper this time.

My right fist curls and ensuring to punch them from the side and not via knuckles, I lay as many frantic punches in as I can before Carlisle steps in.

' _If any of you sad fuckers wants to mock my sex life then I swear to fuck you'll be seeing stars before you try it again! Got it?!'_

 _'Ow!'_ Edward curses, rearing back from me as Jasper copies. Only Emmett is smart enough to remember I'm not going to cause any damage. Or much pain. If I wanted to give them pain, I'd know about 4,000 ways to implement it. Starting with a childish twisting of the forearm.

'Now get out-.' I finish, staring at them all in turn. I've used a neutral tone so as not to sound particularly cruel but their faces reveal only images of pale fright.

'Wait, what?' Carlisle asks, facing me in shock. They didn't think we'd go this far.

'I second that motion. _I_ live here, they don't. Send _them_ out!'

'Hey!' Jasper again, slurring.

'I said out. Get out. _Out_ of our living room. _Out_ of our house. Get out before I kick you out, permanently.'

'What?!' Edward repeats, hysterically.

'Out!' I annunciate, shoving Emmett's shoulder towards the door.

'But-'

'I would listen to her.' Carlisle warns, astoundingly suspicious. 'I would really, _really_ listen to her.'

'I never said it was for forever. I want some time.'

'Time to bone.' Jazz mutters.

'I don't think so.' I turn to face Carlisle's, bless him, arrogant pout. 'You're out too, Cullen.'

' _What_?' He repeats, even more shook with confusion between the guffawing of boyish-humour. 'Why?'

'Because if there's going to be lad talk, I don't want to be around to hear it.'

'You know I would never participate in, or facilitate any kind of-'

'And while I don't want to hear it, I also want to ensure I am well depicted and defended in such a scenario. You're keeping them in check.'

'But-' he blabbers, reminding me of a sharply uncorked bottle of fine champagne, frothing forth with fizzles of no substance.

'Carlisle?' I call.

 _'Carlisle.'_ They sing _;_ I glare at the boys and watch them shrink under my glaring eyes.

'What's going on?'

'Babe, please? I'm tired, I'm irritable and I just want a bit of time to chill out.' It almost sounds as if the boys might mimic that but they change their minds quickly and say little. 'Why don't you go kick a football around or something?'

'Because it's raining?' Edward says obviously. I roll my eyes.

'I have a headache.' I say and even though it's not entirely true, Carlisle still nods thoughtfully. His posture is slumping in realisation and offering a soothing look of concern, he nods.

They mumble under their breath quite a bit, cursing me and their dismissal and pulling on their jackets miserably. I get the impression they're just going to go to the bar around the corner and maybe grab lunch or at least that's what Carlisle is offering to get them to move.

'Are you sure you're okay?' He asks, voice so gentle that it slips into an accented whisper. He reaches out a bruised hand to hold against my arm and then gently lifts my chin so we're eye to eye.

It's harder for me to lie this way.

'Go eat something.' I suggest, smiling. 'Get rid of them and I'll see you in an hour.'

'This is a ploy?!'

'Make sure Jasper keeps his mouth shut?'

'Of course.' He says, nodding, a smile creeping until I shut it down with a glare. 'I'll see you soon.'

He presses his lips to my forehead, eyes my wet dreadlocks with worry and waves me off out the door.

It's the first bit of peace that I've chosen to undertake in a long time.

* * *

There's lots of things I get done while he's out. Bedding for starters. Paperwork. Losing papers. Filing paperwork. It's too quiet without them and I'm almost tempted to phone but that plan is quickly abandoned for the sake that I can't be bothered to look for wherever I've thrown my phone. I've been reading through my class schedules. My grades, predicted grades, my resume. I've been looking at my work and finally when I can't put it off anymore, I phone the college.

There's no reply. It's Sunday. I shouldn't expect anything. But there's not even an answering machine. The line is closed.

This doesn't get me down. I'm in a self-bettering mood. I'm pleased, I'm thoughtful and I'm soberly considering everything Carlisle laid at my hands last night. Job on one hand. Home on the other. Two futures.

'I'm home.' He calls loudly, jumping a little when he realises I'm curled on the sofa with folders in my hands. I've been looking through my car paperwork as a quick distraction. I'm not sure why I'm so focused on finding every letter pertaining to my existence. There's just a niggling feeling demanding I check everything.

'Hey,' I murmur, focused in my hands. He appears at my shoulders and though I didn't expect it, I'm pleased when he kisses me. He's cold from being outside, the cut on his lip touching briefly against mine and his cheek still boldly painted. 'How was lunch?'

'As I was saying earlier about company-.' He smiles apologetically and changes course of conversation on realising he's interrupted. 'Lunch was good. They're going to Em's house. They've sworn not to say anything else… how about you, how's the headache?'

'Worse.' I grumble, irritated at how evilly I tempted fate. He gives me a look. So I do as instructed and slam the folder closed, rubbing my eyes and grinning.

'About the company. They were trying to get a hold of you. Left a few messages but when I asked, they insisted on speaking to you personally.'

Company? S that wasn't a reference to Jasper then?

'Personally?' I repeat, unsure. 'Wait, you know where my phone is? I've been looking for that…'

'Home phone.' he corrects. My stomach starts to tighten.

'Only me?' I ask.

'Yeah, didn't say who it was but they were pretty insistent.'

'Who was it?' I ask.

'I don't know, Es.' He reminds me, chuckling. 'Didn't leave a name.' He frowns at my expression and runs a finger along my cheek. 'It wasn't him.'

'What?'

'It wasn't my father or anyone like that. I would recognise the number.'

'Oh.'

'Don't worry.' He says, eye colour drowning my horrors and leaving me calmly serene. 'I… think it's good.'

'Good?'

'It's a surprise.' He corrects, smiling.

'But I don't like surprises.'

'No. You love them.'

I sigh and push back my fringe, eyes on his neck, those funny little bruises and offended by their title. Bites or bruises. Both suggestions had an air of violence to them that I don't like.

'So you know who phoned then?' I guess, frowning a little.

'No… not really. I can guess but I think I'd rather not for now.' He has a cryptic look on his face, enough to tie him into the Masen bloodline excusing his lemony colour in contrast. 'Don't be alarmed though.'

'Funny.' I mutter, and then I have to smile because that's what he's doing.

'Edward will be returning his father car.' He checks his watch and hesitates. 'I get the impression he's going to spend a few days with them. I'm not sure what they're doing but he's been very adamant about staying out the house….' He finishes with another slight round of inoffensive humour.

'Typical.' I groan, rubbing his arm. He grimaces.

'Es…'

'Yeah?'

He smiles guiltily and lowers his eyes to the arm of the sofa, spotting a freckle of mine and touching it gently. 'I kinda need to study…'

'Oh Carlisle,' I say, laughing. 'Of course, go right ahead. I think I might study a little, too.'

'For your classes?'

I nod. 'At least just Olivia's class. She set some interesting reading this week. I want to catch up on it.'

Want. Actually _want_. How peculiar.

Perhaps this is another thing which proves how new we are to this. How easy it is to study with him. How fun it is. It's a distraction as well of course. But a motivation. I find I can trick myself into reading laborious, over zealous lines as long as I reward every paragraph with a glance to his statuesque features. His quick moving hand, the way his eyes close and the words bubble like he's casting an incantation.

That's how easy it is to love Carlisle Cullen. It's a reward.

Unfortunately, like most reward systems I've built, I become greedy. Before long the book in my grasp has been placed together and I'm eyeing him so carefully that I can just watch him without him noticing. He's so immersed in what he's doing but somehow still open to everything around him. His left hand balances over the keyboard of his laptop. His talented fingertips rest gently on the buttons, using only the smallest amount of pressure to create a sentence. The words from book to eyes flow easily in both hands and while they work independently, they work together, too. He types a sentence one handed while closing notes upon the paper in front with his right hand. His handwriting is a little looser today, probably on account on his stiff aches. The sound of his deep but quiet breathing almost makes me feel sleepy. It's calming, the gentle lull of waves on an exotic beach. His fringe is curving, he's reading quickly, processing his thoughts like lightening with an occasional eyebrow turned in reference either to a straying thought, or as I have guessed, the music behind him.

He never normally works with music on and though I realise it's both antisocial and selfish of me to have chosen it, he simply soaks it into his surroundings. A foot swinging to a line of beats, mouth cupping the lyrics and miming them so softly it's hard to tell he's doing it.

His whole life is his work.

It's not naïve of me to realise he's thinking brashly about moving. Moving from his hospital right now would be the same as dropping a half-eaten meal into the trash while your stomach growls for more. There's so much more for him to indulge in. The grass is always greener. Washington.

There's still one sense that he hasn't quite allowed himself to assume into his time alone.

He can obviously see just fine. He breathes evenly, in through his nose, casting an eye to detect it's source. Twice it's been the unlit candle in front of him. I've just caught him consuming the old age smell of a hardcover book, the old glue that he draws upon like nicotine. The murmuring of his lips example how apt is hearing is and the fact that he sighs contently every time he sips his fruit-induced water prove that his taste is effective.

Four out of five senses working to their optimum standard.

The last will require his training.

I unintentionally creep up behind him, reading over his shoulder at his heavy work and though he slumps slightly, his body can't help but flinch under my hands. Jumping, he turns his face and offers a guilty smile, forcing himself to relax under my hands so that it soon comes naturally. For now I'm just marking out the feeling of his arms, thumb pressed against that pinker flesh in matters of briefness. Though he's tense I remind myself not to massage him too thoroughly considering his rougher evening yesterday.

'How's it going?'

'Hmm…' He replies, nodding so I move my hand a little lower and grin when the sound changes from a simple 'Hmm' to a long ' _Mmm_.'

'A lot to do?'

'Loads.' He curses, frowning. I kiss his temples, trying to ease the shape of his skin and allowing myself to chuckle when he tries to drop into me.

'I'll be in the kitchen if you need me.'

'Kitchen?' He says, hopefully. 'What's on the menu?'

'Revenge…' I say simply, knowing my sweet smile may look somewhat of a contrast. I'm pleased he's confused.

'And how do you plan to enact this revenge…?' He asks, a melody of humour entertaining the two of us.

'You'll just have to wait and see…'

* * *

Considering patience is the one thing Carlisle is an expert in, I'm thrilled when he remembers the true boundaries of when patience becomes disinterest.

Adoration does funny things to the human anatomy. As does excitement. And the desperation for the upper hand. It's so easy to return to my good mood when I'm with him that I almost forget my conversation with Alice earlier. It's not exactly a bad thing. Considering she said she'd text me however, I decide phoning her for a random, less dramatic phone call isn't unreasonable.

She's happily talking about Bella. Raving about how talkative she's been today and there's only one person to answer for that; Edward. We chat for a while, or rather, I listen and accumulate the gossip, busying my hands in a simple cake mix and letting it cool. Once that's done, I can move onto my real intentions.

It's fairly obvious to me why I've chosen the measurements I have but it still produces the little line of confusion from my Saint's face. He allowed himself only a brief distraction, breathing in the smell of baking like it's making him float.

A hand even aligns itself gently on my right hip when he peers over at my hands.

'Revenge smells sweet.'

'It'll taste better.' I promised grinning manically. It's like adding poison to my cauldron and I laugh more. Then he put his lips to mine, pulling me in for a fleeting, open mouthed smooch. My cheeks warm for no real reason and the buzz in my gut of sudden weightlessness has me feeling even shyer.

It's not like it's even arousal. Just excited disbelief…. Mixed with suggestions of arousal, of course. He _is_ beautiful.

As for now, I continue to stir the icing. I've separated it in half, which is far too excessive even for my standards but I like to be sure. The thought of baking is suddenly far from my eye.

It's only icing sugar in the bowl. Water is added to the fine dust to make it into a thick, obscenely grotesque white. Too white. It's sticky on my thumb but sweet on my tongue and though the thought is obviously not far from my mind, it's enough of a distraction to stop me again.

After a very brief rummage upstairs for the necessary equipment, I return to my icing and hesitate. Maybe a little more water. The paste is less thick but still gloopy, still that white which is so pure, it's dirty.

I've torn the packet, place a syringe into the opening and carefully deposit about an inch of icing into it. This is when my love discovers the perfect boundary. I hear him sigh, arms folded across his chest as he watches my spine from the doorway.

'All okay?' I ask, refusing to turn around.

'Mm.' He hums, stretching to peak at my hands. 'Bored now though… and I can smell food.'

In the time it has taken for the cake to cool, before the decorating started, I've prepped a simple dinner into the oven. I've made too much as usual, forgetting that it's just the two of us but I can always save the rest.

Unluckily for that hungry smirk, dinner is a long way of yet.

'It'll be a while yet, Love.' I say, warming the filled material in my palms and distributing the liquid accurately.

'Mm.' I can feel his curiosity peaking. 'Esme?'

That really didn't take long. He's smirking though I'm sure this is because he hasn't guessed my sweet, literally sweet, revenge. It's so clever I might as well collect a PHD already.

'What are you-'

'Does this look real enough?' I ask, waving the condom in his face, and very nearly hitting him with it.

He reals back to avoid being slapped with the latex. Those blue eyes focus and then, in amazement, a smart, concise smirk lights up his cheeks when he looks from contents of the bowl to the contraception in my hand. If he was meant to look frightened, he's hidden it well and now the colour comes swimming back into his skin.

'You're asking _me_?' He chuckles, using the back of his hand to raise the end closer to the light.

'Of course.'

'You know as well as I do, if not better, that I would not have much experience in such an area….' He chuckles again as if proving he's not offended. I raise my eyebrow at him.

'You've been looking at Male ejaculate for years-'

'Only my own.' He defends, head tilted to laugh a little more. My lips form a wicked pout and without meaning to, I gaze thoughtfully at him from under my lashes, my right hip coming up to rest my elbow on.

'Exactly.'

His eyes close, squint, then relax again. In through his nose, trying not to smile, and then he looks at me again.

'Little less thick.' He whispers, huskily. My teeth bite into my lip, drawing the colour into them. I add a little more water into the tube, mix it up by squeezing the material and hand it back to him.

'Could you put this on the piano stool for me?'

'Es!' He gasps, laughing harder.

I'm not laughing. Grinning, sure, but I'm feeling extremely devilish. He hesitates and then with a roll of his eyes, cups his hands over the one holding the condom. His fingers are smooth, delicate along my hand and deliberately raising the flesh to tingle.

'You need to make it look like-'

'I gathered.' He replies, cheerfully. He mutters something about causing trouble, yet can't help but aim to please.

'Another?' He asks, slightly more worrisome now. It didn't take him long to complete his task which makes me think he didn't do a particularly great job but we're in this together and I've got to let him help.

Well…I'd like to at least.

His amused chuckle is warm on my neck, shrouding me in that friendly feeling of jittery worry. My hands tremble a little what with him standing so close to me. He's not touching me but I can feel his words as well as hear their smooth whisper. He's placed both hands at the edges of the counter, either side of my hips.

It's almost like he's enclosing me, had I not longed for such a feeling.

'There are three of them…' I remind him, eventually. I've only just remembered to answer him and my voice is croakier than I meant it to be. Nonchalant like, I try to brush my clipped fringe away, running a hand through it and combing it back before drawing my hand back to task at hand.

We both seem to be ignoring the fact that I have essentially just rubbed lube into my hair.

'Two live together.' He murmurs and the gentle weight of his presence eases my shoulders into a gentle roll backwards.

'I was going to put one in Em's car…' I say, pretending to be focused though I'm very distracted at this moment in time. He stretches out his hands, humming quietly, voice slow and stretched into soothing lengths.

For now, I have a better soothing length in mind. Without being too obvious, I push a little on my tiptoes, the skirt of my dress swishing when I push my ass out again. He doesn't say much but I can see the raise of his eyebrow in the reflection of the clock.

Our eyes meet, his questioning but daring and I quickly thumb my handy work for a distraction.

'Is this enough?' I ask, sounds irregular in response to my beating heart.

'You're asking me?' He repeats.

'I want it to be accurate, Carlisle.'

I feel him come closer, the air around us shifting in response to the warmer atmosphere. Every cell in this kitchen is heating to about seventy degrees. We're going to have to strip soon.

'Personally speaking…' His lips are at my neck. They touch the beating pulse, they play against it. Make my hands quiver. 'More.'

'More?' I repeat.

'So much more…'

My lips press together, and after I inhale, I let the breath drop to my breasts. He doesn't shift, he waits to see my reaction. He wants to know what I want. I want him. Urgh, I want him. I fill a little more of the condom, show it off before tying the end again and closing a fist on the head, squeezing the liquid and spreading it around to give off the impression of a well spent night. He inhales too, touching the nerves of my skin, and making several parts moist when he exhales.

No matter how much I push out my ass, let my skirt ride up with a fist tugging the fabric at my stomach, he stays regimented, eyeing the bowl from above. It's difficult to be not so obvious when I try to show off my cleavage. He hasn't noticed.

'I'm impressed at just how real it looks…'

'Good.' And I mean it, licking a bit of the icing of the side of my thumb and nodding in appreciation. 'Tastes good, too.'

I drop my thumb into the mix, making a figure of eight before pulling it out to look at it. A huge drop slides down the skin before dropping with a slop back into the puddle of icing. Raising it as an example, I try my best to not let my bodily needs make this anymore suggestive than it already is.

'May I?'

That's all he ever asks. It's never specific. So much so that I nod absently, ignoring the pressing of heat and my tight thighs, putting the sticky white stuff close to my lips to take the rest of.

'Of course.' I say.

Instead of dropping his own digits into the icing, he challenges my expectations by enclosing his left hand over mine, lifts my dirty white thumb into view. He eyes it, going cross eyed from over my shoulder before closing his mouth over it.

It shouldn't be this bad. The heat is unbearable. It rushes from the hot wetness on my digit, right into the depth of my bones, pinching under my breasts like affectionate nibbling before heating the space between my legs. Soaking both areas with only one form of direct contact.

He sucks the sweetness from me, holding me steady because I'm jittering under him, teeth gentle against the knuckle before pulling his lips away.

'I think you're intentionally making me squirm, Doctor Cullen.' I utter breathily, breathing deeply for him.

He doesn't quite reply, his lips are tightly closed and locking his fingers into mine, he folds my arms over my stomach like a barrier. Except I can feel his fingertips on my hips. Managing somehow to free hair from the side of my neck, he brushes his nose on the left side. Achingly slow while I beat in his arms.

'Intentionally ignoring me now, huh?' I tease, eyes closing when I rest my head back. It allows him further access and his straight nose now aligns with the corner of my jaw, down again.

'Mm.' He hums, lips still firmly closed.

My palms are strating to sweat, heat and moisture pooling into my skin so that I can smell my own desperation. Restraint isn't my strong point and while he still tickles my neck, I break my left hand free from his hands to slip to the back of his hair. He chuckles, closed mouthed still, breathing in from my throat.

He presses his hard lips to the side of my neck, his lower lip dragging along the bone. He breathes in, patient, fingertips smoothing music into me, swaying me ever so minutely that we could not be moving at all. He's waiting for permission.

So I grip his hair tighter. He doesn't move.

'Must you always rely on the words I say?'

He nods, nose coming up and gliding down again. Slow.

'Can't you just listen to the demands of our anatomy?'

He doesn't murmur his question but he does slow even more, his raised eyebrow as sexy as it is when we were simply flirting. Imbedding my hand, I pull him against me, having my ass slap perfectly against the firm restraint of his pants. His murmur catches, a little more breath slipping from his throat. Frowning.

'Please.' I murmur.

He parts his lips, placing them to the bone with a perfect vacuum, sucking. I realise why he had his mouth shut. He didn't swallow the icing and he rolls it from his tongue, to my skin, licking it up again before rubbing it back it. The flicker of the hard wetness makes me shudder and coming up taller on my tip-toes, my hands start to grip. So he parts his mouth wider, taking more of my skin and loving that. Pulses everywhere. From my neck, my fingers, my heart, my stomach, between my legs.

A moan slips out when he clamps down a little and in a hurry to need him, I draw my skirt up past my panty line. Gently, he tugs my hand from my skin. He finishes my neck with an energy stealing, hard suck, and has to roll his hard-on beneath me to stop me from slipping to a mess on the floor.

For a second, I'm thinking he's wasted a great opportunity. Instead, using two fingers, two very bad and suggestive poised fingers, he breaks through the sloppy icing in the bowl. He soaks his fingers, coats them, makes them drip and while nibbling on the back of my ear, he drapes the liquid from my neck, to collar bone and forming a pool of sticky whiteness on the top of my breast, above the bra and neck of the dress.

This moan is a little louder.

He's ever so neat.

While clearing his stripe of liquid, lapping it up greedily, he keeps his fingers raised away to avoid spillage. I _was_ squirming. Now I'm actively moving. Freeing my shoulders first for him to move down. The bra step he combats for himself before sucking the stickiness from my upper left breast. So I move his fingers into the cup. I ease them around, push his touch into my arousal and shudder desperately when I feel his.

I'm tugging at my skirt by this point but he stays patient, captivating with his blond locks brushing softly along my cheek bone. Eventually, the summer colours of my dress pool around my bare feet and raising myself more, I try to lean back to give him better access.

'Please… enough teasing?' I beg and the sound of his, granted, pleasant chuckle does little to help put me at ease. I couldn't be at ease. We always start off at ease and after two minutes, I'm soaked, clamping myself shut and trying not to jump hastily onto his dick.

Savouring the moment takes so much patience.

Nevertheless, he listens. His free hand he moves to undo the bra, sliding the strap further off each arm, swallowing his mouthful and kissing where he's drawn a path to.

His hands, brutality smooth on my underwear, drape gently, he presses himself into me, he makes me whine for him and once he can be sure I'm ready, he spins me around to face him.

'Are you planning to kill me?' I complain.

He's stays quiet, shaking his head in a quiet 'no'. My bra he helps push to the ground and once both breasts are on full display, he forgets about his bitten lip and bites into it as though trying to reproduce the same cut. They're full, moving with every pounding breath, every unrest raining heartbeat and moving life into my mouth, tongue on tongue like ice skaters on melting ice, he slides his palms down my body.

I shiver three times before he cups my ass. Then he feels me, ever so gentle and I shudder a fourth time and groan. Spinning me with care, he lifts me with ease on the counter, parting my legs into a perfect V so he can see the damp crotch spreading the more he teases.

His mouth returns from my hungry lips, down the sticky path to my right nipple. The other, wet with icing, is rubbed by the pad of his thumb and because he knows I get off from my nipples teased, he doesn't shy away from pressing them into me, sucking the white from them individually till they shine and stand out to attention.

I'm tensing my legs so tightly to avoid ruining this moment that I almost forget to watch him suck the other nipple.

There's a clatter of utensils being pushed away and breathing me in, he rubs his tongue under me. He makes me squirm and he makes me pant and better yet, he does so knowing how to please me.

More icing is dripped down my torso and he laps it up, making me giggle when he kisses the taste from my body. He flickers his tongue in my naval, sighing when I involuntarily shift my hips, hot, wet mouth on my frail desperation.

He pauses when he gets to my underwear and watches my expression carefully. He's just kissed the skin and though that felt so good…I'm suddenly a little shy.

'I…I've never…'

He waits, patient.

'Carlisle, I've never had someone give me oral before…'

'Why not?' He frowns and even from hear I can see it's a complaint. He's frustrated for me.

I shrug, embarrassed, still writhing but for a slightly new reason. 'It's just… it's a little… I don't want you to…'

'My love, if you don't want me to-'

'No!' I say quickly, cringing. 'It's not that. I want it…'

'I'd be happy to give it.' He promises and aware of my boundary line, he kisses and licks above it, teetering closer to my stomach and having my eyes roll back into my head. I'm so ready. If he goes down there, he'll drown.

'I'm … too turned on…' I excuse but I don't know why I say it. He is offering the single sexiest thing beside his cock and I'm wimping out?!'

'Is there such a thing?'

'I'm… I'm too sensitive.' I babble, cringing again because I still want him, oh God I want him.

'My love…' He says gently, extending, hands on the back of my hips, to keep me from falling when he moves is lips into mine.

I get that same shudder again. The shudder of absent hunger, the kind of weightless need that makes me almost abandon everything just to gorge myself on wanting him.

'I want to.' I correct myself, steadier already, the more I focus on how trusting he is to me. I knead the skin at the back of his neck. 'I really, really want you too. But…'

'If you'd like to…' He kisses me again, smacking the love into every nerve and making his grin insanely overwhelming. '…we can always give it a go and the second you have the slightest bit of doubt-'

'I want to.' I say again. But, Carlisle… I'm really…' I never thought there'd be a time where I'd be ashamed of such a feeling. 'Wet.'

'I can't think of anything sexier….' He promises, reminding me on how easy it is to trust him with a simple snog. 'Don't forget that twenty-four hours ago, I was a virgin.'

This is the sentence that makes me feel entirely normal once more and I feel my smile widen.

'Okay.'

'Okay?' he repeats and then he sees my shy nodding and combs back my hair. 'Okay… To remind myself…?'

Though his kisses are loving and affectionate and warm, his tongue is fire and passion and need. The constant battle of the elements of his lips are sending me nuts and when he sucks my nipple again, more for show, I actually gasp so loud he initially thinks he hurt me.

The path he takes is a similar one to last time except more detailed and a little less teasing. I'm panting enough as it. He eyes my worry, waits for me to promise I want it and drags the cold inside up along the inside of both thighs.

Instead of soothing heat, my skin boils it.

The moment his lips move to my legs, the feeling of shy embarrassment is long forgotten and I'm so consumed with not yelling rude demands that I'm drawing blood from my lip. His tongue moves further east of my thigh, sucking the flesh and the pulse and stopping just before the break in panties. He does the same for the other thigh, nipping where he knows I'll like it and calming me by keeping me not calm.

'May I?'

The damn underwear and I nod, muttering my affirmations like they're curse words. I might be soaked but I'm still nervous and when he, slowly slips the underwear from my plump thighs, I'm quivering so much I have Goosebumps.

'You're beautiful…' He murmurs, nibbling on my thigh with a hand in mine. I'm gripping his. Not for fear anymore so much as intensity. I need to not come. Not too soon. I also need to try make this less wet for him.

Should I be this turned on?

'Here… why don't we start simple?' He kisses my mouth, distracting me with the lushness of his lips on mine, consuming me when suddenly he slides two fingers along my slit.

' _Carlisle_!'

Fuck, I'm not going to cope.

He waits, on edge but I knot my fingers around him and pull his lips back to mine, purring for more. He chuckles, kisses turning hotter when he eases in first the one middle finger, then realising just how wet I really am, adding in the second.

'Urgh, fuck.' I groan, hands tearing at his shirt, at anything to feel more. I've pushed my ass to the edge of the counter, not just for matters of ease, lifting myself ever so slightly when he pumps his hand in me again. I really am yelling out demands now for him not to stop.

'Exquisite.' He murmurs, kissing more of my flesh.

'More.' I grunt, limbs acting on their own when my legs part wider for him. He slows his hand and drags his fingers to the very end of my entrance. He's still kissing down my body, making me pant and groan, easing me back slightly, still awkwardly dressed with hungry eyes on my pussy.

'Yeah?' He asks.

'Oh God, yes.'

Taking his time, lips on my hips, my thighs, on my pubis, he sighs, rearranges his grin and moves his mouth to my pulsing core.

It's so good it's bad.

Pointing his tongue, he parts my wet folds, shifting slight in before letting the flat surface align itself to my clit just briefly. I'm swearing again, hands so tight on whatever I'm gripping that my knuckles are white. He pants a little too, pausing to stare at up at me beneath his own, guttural and sexy groans.

'Fuck, you taste so good Esme.'

Maybe I would blush if I could make sense of English right now. I can only just speak it, no use understanding it.

'Please.' I chant, because it's the only word I know. His tongue comes up again. Wet on wet. Soft on soft. Sensitive on sensitive. I'm trying really hard not to lose focus.

I'm doing really well actually.

He manages to do six gentle, painfully slow laps of his tongue dragging from clit to hole. He's so grateful too, licking, teasing, blowing, and making me ache in need and the whole time praising every inch of flesh.

He moves his fingers just in time for his tongue to nip around the hood of my clit and it's enough that I'm suddenly failing to remember life around me. Mid pant, I suddenly gasp, head thrown back begging him not to stop.

'Oh God, Oh _fuck_.'

He pulls away, blue eyes clocking me full on and refusing to let me hide when his grin beams. He watches his fingers, encourages me to watch them too and slides with ease into my depths. I grip him so` hard that we both groan.

'I need you. Oh fuck I need you.'

'We're nowhere near done yet.' He promises, squatting to knees again. His right hand holds me steady for a little bit, where he can feel me pulse around his hand and once his grin turns mischievous, he returns his tongue to my swollen nub.

Except this time he stares at me while doing it and I'm so turned on, so desperate that after a few teasing zigzags, the teasing circles around the top of my slit are starting to lead to something far more serious.

It's hard to say when I'm holding him against me, exposed completely into his face while he proves that he really is too good to be true. But a grunt in particular catches his attention and he pauses while I'm still throbbing on the high slope.

'You're going to make me come.' I gasp, breathing deeply, one hand moving from the counter edge to squeeze and knead my own breast. I don't care if he sees. In fact, I want him to see me relieve myself. I need him so much right now that the loss of control is spiralling me into disillusion.

'Good.' He replies, flicking me into gasps. I'm moaning again, dirty, rude moans, needing them all.

'That's…ugh _fuck_ … babe. That's not what I meant. You can't make me …' This sounds so much better when my body isn't trying to contradict me.

'Why?' he asks, warily.

'I need _you_ to come.'

The speed of the words are too fast, my head is too busy, we're too crazy. I'm going to come so hard I'm going to lose myself if we're not careful.

' _You_ have to come.' I repeat, breathily and the next sentence from his soaked and wet lips pushes me that little further.

'Oh, I _will,'_ he promises, soothing my skin with just a smile and the rubbing on my thigh. 'Trust me, my love.'

Instead of just ending this sentence here, his tongue returns to me and I open myself up to him. Ready for him entirely, I let his sucking and his nibbling drive me to obsession. I pant, I bite, I moan, I squeeze, I pulse, I cry.

I let his hand pump into me so expertly but it's his tongue….

When it circles again, the gentle, slow movement crashes my reality and shuddering, my high takes over me so entirely that I cry out not just his name but several intangible sounds. However, his godly status is proven once more.

Hands cupping my ass, as I'm mid sensation, creaming onto and around him, my clit beating, he aligns his mouth closer, over my cunt and takes as much as he can for himself.

I'm still whimpering and quivering after a few minutes since the orgasm but seeing the beautiful expressing of satisfaction on his features makes me wanna collapse.

'Fucking hell, Cullen.'

'I love how hard you come when I'm in you.' He slides his hand out and nuzzles my stomach, obviously self-conscious in case I'm my own biggest turn off.

'Who says that's you?' I tease, breathless still and having to hold onto him for balance.

'You do. When you scream my name.' He grins, proudly. Jesus he's so glorious.

'Don't get cocky.' I tease him, winking but the comment is enough to remind me of the second greatest thing about this moment. He almost blushes. 'I want you naked and I want you naked, now!' I demand of him, rubbing a hand on my thigh and spreading the remains.

'Sure?' he utters, in disbelief.

I pull him by the shirt and snog him, hands moving to his shirt buttons while he throws off his belt. I don't think I've ever tasted myself on another person either… I can see why he would be concerned but it's one of those strange kinks that is turning me on. I can taste myself on him. He is imbued with my scent.

He just made love to me with his mouth.

And the busier I am with our tongues coming together, the more noticeable and more discomfort he causes himself through his underwear. His hand slip down my legs to the hem of his shirt and he makes no easy task of awkwardly lifting it from his body, exposing his torso, turning darker every time I look at it. The poor onslaught of bruises, treating his ribcage to a more severe look, panning around as though he's been used as a slump of meat.

He thumb lifts my chin up and eyeing my expression, he smiles very carefully, eyebrows raised. I brush gently against it and the tiny scar, expecting him to flinch but he doesn't. He leans closer to me, hips against the counter as though he's concealing the obvious.

'Even bruised and battered, you continue to be my utter perfection…'

He makes an usual face at me, half frowning but smiling too before looking away slightly. 'And you are my perfection, Esme.'

Pulling him back into me, lips on his sweet, all be it sticky, mouth. My tongue dancing against his, beating to the rhythm of my heart and thighs. We half undo his trousers together. I slide my hands down the sides of his underwear, tugging them off and freeing his hard on so that the exposure makes him gasp.

I have to lean to touch him so I trail my lips from nibbling on his earlobe, down to his throat, licking, sucking, kissing while my hands trail against his base. His eyes are closed, head thrown back slightly when he lets himself be fondled.

'Should we…?' He starts to ask and from behind my hip he grabs the box of condoms I was using. 'I mean they're right here…' he chuckles.

'Do you really want to wear one after this morning?'

'No.' He answers, concealing a grin. 'But I have to ask.'

'Carlisle, I want to feel every inch of you slowly sliding into my hot wet cunt…'

He shudders a little, revealing a bitten lip when I catch a look of his face. 'I love it when you talk dirty…'

'Actions are louder than words….?' I say, nibbling his collar bone.

He chuckles, kicks his ankles free from his clothing and takes a firm hold of himself. He rubs himself just the once, pulling the foreskin down, grunting delicately when I position myself at the edge. He's agonisingly slow, rubbing the head along my slit, having me shudder while he groans. A hand goes to hold mine in his hair, the other coming to my hip as he both gorge ourselves on the view of watching him disappear into me. I gasp, he shudders and ever so slowly moves deeper, lifting his hips to mine.

He meets them again, pauses to allow me to swear and beg to his chest and then kisses me while thrusting into me again.

'Fuck.'

He curses, stretching up and clapping into me so fully that he falters.

'Ah, fuck.' He repeats, groaning painfully, half falling into my weight, hands tightening on the counter.

'What? What is it?' I ask, still panting but eyeing the frown of his delicately. He's squeezed his eyes shut, drawing his hips out in agony.

'Babe?'

'I've got cramp.'

'What?' I ask.

'Cramp.' He complains, laughing from gasps of pain. 'In my fucking leg.'

'Are you okay? What can I do?'

He groans, hand sliding down the back of his calf as he tries to stretch it out. His cock is coated in me, standing to high alert on his stomach. I'm in a daze trying to make sense on why we're not having sex.

'I- I think it's going.' He murmurs eventually but when he steps towards me, his face reveals the pain.

'Get on the floor.' I laugh, pushing him away just slightly.

'But I _love_ this position.'

'You can hardly stand.' I remind him, leaning into him for a snog. He gives me one but can't help and reveal the vast amounts of discomfort this causes by doing so. 'On the floor.'

He rolls his eyes, and very gently drops to the floor, close to the table, feet by the living room, head towards the sink. The strength of my orgasm has taken a lot of my energy but I manage to come down on wobbly legs, standing above him, so that he grins. I drop to my knees, letting him touch delicately against my folds before curving my ass out.

His hands come up, gently smoothing my skin, rubbing my ass, touching my thigh, spreading my legs. I shudder desperately and slide onto him perfectly.

'Esme _. Fuck_.'

Every inch of him is pulsing desperately around me, his features altering when I rub myself along him. He's panting under me, chest flushing, mouth drying though he tries to kiss me back.

'You're so beauti-'

My stomach is knotting alright, the shivers coursing through my body when I shudder against him. He meets my hips against, lovingly, slowly his hands coming around my torso though it makes me shudder hard.

'Hello?' Edward calls from the living room. 'You guys home?'

FOR FUCK SAKE.

From underneath, he mouths the same curse as me, still throbbing in me, needily. 'What do we do?' He whispers, urgent while Edward fumbles with the front door.

'Carlisle?' The kid calls. 'Es? Where are you guys?'

He kicks the kitchen door shut with his foot, slamming it almost and looking up at me, cock still pulsing.

'You'll just have to fuck me.' I whisper, chewing on the sounds and rubbing myself on him slightly.

He groans, quietly now and taking over, lifts me slightly to rub his hips into me. To stop myself from yelling and groaning and moaning, I put my lips to his skin, taking him in and panting when the second high starts to rise needily.

Hands under my ass, he pounds into me, expression of pleasure stealing his face when his thrusting starts to become a little faster, harder too.

Just as he utters the words, he rubs his thumb to the top of my slit, playing with the button to send me over but I slap his hands away and open my legs wider for him. I'm already building and building fast, I want our timings to be exact.

Meaning that there's no way I'm allowing him to cheat himself out the easy way. Not after this morning. Not right now. He's fucking me so wonderfully and so lovingly that if it wasn't for our urgency, I would assume we weren't fucking at all.

'Fuck.' He groans when I clench around him, every time he comes right into me I'm nearly falling over the edge, the same thrusting calling me deeper and deeper and deeper.

Until, I'm squeezing onto him so hard that my hips buckle, milking him off his exploits to my ovaries and gasping when the pleasure cascades through me.

' _Carlisle_!'

Holding me close, he empties himself entirely, coming into me, throbbing, breath hot on my neck as his own restrained grunts and cries weaken.

It's better than me, I've taken to gasping shuddering, aching until I selfishly slump onto him. He's warm but slightly damp with a layer of thin sweat that gathers at his forehead and neck. He chuckles, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist as if to keep me sliding off. His breath is evening out though it still has me moving. My eyes are already trying to close and though I can bet the kitchen floor is cold and uncomfortable, for now, there's no better bed.

'Guys?' Edward calls, and it proves how pathetic we are in that it's taken six seconds to forget our concern.

'Shit.' I echo, climbing of him and squeezing my legs together tightly. He snickers a little, grabs a clean cloth, wipes himself off then offers another to me as I'm tugging his shirt over my curves.

'Hello?' Edward repeats, rattling the kitchen door knob.

'Don't-!' We both warn him. It's too late. He enters, muttering complaints, sees us and slams the door shut, behind him.

'Are you kidding me?!'

'Dude!' Carlisle responds, covering his junk with a hand and frowning. I don't think I've ever heard him use the word _dude_ before. It's a little odd. 'Get out!'

'We eat in here!'

'Out Edward-!'

He comes forward wrenching his hands in his hair and glaring. 'You do realise my _parents_ are out there don't you?!'

'What?!' I demand, horrified. Carlisle is suddenly looking a little pale and eyes our attire from the corner of his eye.

'What are they doing here?!' He hisses, grabbing his trousers and tugging them onto his legs. His left leg is still slow to move, stiff and I can assume he's still in discomfort.

As is Edward who catches a glimpse of his Buddy's genitals and holds a hand to his mouth to stop from gagging.

'Don't look then.' He comments, snarky.

'Is that meant to be a joke?! Look at the two of you!' He shakes his head, turning with a face to me. 'I swear to God this little merry-go-round of secrecy you've got us going on is ridiculous. You shit on me saying the tiniest thing-'

'It wasn't the tiniest thing, Edward. Alice _can't_ know.'

'To hell with Alice. If you're doing it so openly in the _kitchen_ \- she'll find out.'

'You wouldn't…' I start to say, my jaw unhinging. Carlisle is on his feet now, gathering extra clothes in his hands and eying his brother of sorts warily. Right now he's certainly a conniving and evil brother.

'You're right, I won't.' He confirms and I let out a full sigh of relief. 'I won't need to, you'll give yourselves away in no time.'

'Edward-?' Liz calls, hand on the glass door. We jump forward but it's Edward himself who slams it shut again, hastily. 'Edward!' She reprimands snippily but those emerald eyes narrow through to my stone cold heart.

'What the fuck am I meant to do?!'

'Distract her, Edward.' Carlisle says obviously, hands gutting out. Hands are everywhere. In our hair, in the air, on the door, on the counter.

It's my eyes though which are concerned. There's a condom full of icing on the side, solidifying as we discuss our troublesome fate. The thought of solidifying makes me cringe and I squeeze my legs together tighter.

I'm not even wearing underwear.

'Did you not hear me? _Pair_ -rent _s. Both._ '

'Calm down.' He insists, mouth cracking.

'Me calm down?! You two should calm down!' He's sending hysterical again. 'You _calm_ down!' He repeats gesturing once more Carlisle's lower body. I'm expecting him to blush or turn away instead he rolls his eyes.

'What is going on in there?! Why are you arguing?'

'We're not arguing Mother, we're-'

'It's fine Mrs, Masen. We'll be out in just a second!' I call, ignoring Edward's glare and wondering if it will be less suspicious to pull on my dress.

'Oh! Esme, Dear. I nearly forgot-' She goes to open the door but her son slams in back in her face. She's probably too old for a tantrum or to be looking like the annoying little sister whose throwing a tantrum but we hear her stamp her foot.

'Edward Anthony Masen if you dare-'

'Get out there before she pulverises me.' The kid sneers, gritting his teeth and baring them at Carlisle who frankly, looks far too pleased for the scene of things.

'Well get out and distract her then-'

'In our kitchen?!' He repeats, disgusted but slides through the door, jabbering back at his mother and insisting they check out something that needs fixing.

We're quiet as we listen. Attention focused on the sound of them going up stairs, probably to Edward's room. A warm set of lips press gently to my forehead.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah.' I say, laughing shakily. I was expected him to be a man of vibrant colours, or no colour at all, so to find him peachy is worrying. 'But we need to shower.'

'I know… think you can get away without washing your hair?'

I nod, moving over to chuck the condom away and hiding the box in the drawer. For now the leftover icing can go in the fridge ready for when I've got a spare moment.

He waits another second and then nods leading the way quietly up the stairs with his arm stretched out towards me to remind me to be quiet. The giggles are trying to consume me, but I try my hardest to be good, walking slow behind him, stifling my laughter and skipping quickly behind him.

Unfortunately for me, on pushing his door open further, he freezes and I come colliding into him. Followed by the gazes of all three Masen's.

'Oh Carlisle! There you are. How are you-?' she looks down at his abdomen, he's crossed his arms over himself though there's no need now he's completely flaccid. Her expression quickly becomes one of horror.

But her horror catches Edward and he takes in what was right in front of him all along, the badges of pain, the marks of my lips and I can only wonder which he's more disgusted by. Edward senior coughs, clearing his own embarrassment and trying to snap his wife into action but she looks like she's about to burst into tears.

The face of my Saint is very clear as he looks at Edward.

 _Are you stupid?!_

'Just checking out the window… Edward said it got smashed.'

I'm staying hidden behind Carlisle though my instinct is to slink off to my own room. They can see me, if I move I'll look guiltier. What am I saying, I'm wearing a shirt and for the second time today I have the 'I've had epic sex' hair. If I walk anywhere, they'll see I'm not wearing panties.

'Yeah, the bottom left corner but it damaged some of the frame too…'

Manly speak is so awkward.

'You'll need a good sealant.' Senior muses, blushing gently. His wife's hand is gripping so tightly onto his arm, tears brimming and Carlisle flinches under her watch.

'We have some-'

'What happened?!' She bursts, unable to conceal it anymore when she rushes towards him.

He surprises me in stepping back and I don't know if that's because he's uncomfortable by the over display of needy affection or if the atmosphere of sex is still prudent in his mind.

'Nothing-'

'Liz…' Senior murmurs, trying to stop her. She chokes back a sob, a determined and angry sob and tightens a fist onto his hand. Carlisle is still looking away.

'This isn't what-'

'Liz.' Senior says, voice harder this time. 'Come on downstairs. Give them a bit of-'

'No!' She yells, shoving him back from her when he encourages her away again.

I can relate to her fury, I'd be just as frustrated trying to get the words out. I have been just as frustrated. She comes forward, reaching out to touch his cheek, the prudent red slap worse now that someone else is judging it.

He doesn't step forward so she retracts her hand back.

'Tell me that wasn't-?'

'I'm fine.' He promises, smiling awkwardly. 'It looks worse than it is.'

At this current moment in time, it seems his left leg is causing the majority of the irritation. He bites his split lip and looks down to his dark bruises. The line of hair pointing towards his dick. He doesn't know where to put his hands but he's trying to hide away.

'This was _him_?!'

'Liz!' Senior repeats and he's hard this time because he can read the discomfort in Carlisle's expression, how eager we are to get away. 'We're here to talk and we'll do that in just a moment. A moment's privacy?' He asks and we briefly meet eyes before I look down and blush to every cell.

She's reluctant but nods, instructs Edward out of Carlisle's room, who looks away when glared at, and gently touches my hand on her way down the stairs. It's only been an evening but already the two them look tired, haggard with stress and concern, guilt eating them up for no real reason.

Carlisle waits for them to be downstairs before breathing. He looks like he just wants to curl up and sleep and I wish I could grant that.

Instead, with a shy grin at one another, we shower individually, making a real show of shutting off the shower and turning it on again, louder for the second person, and dress awkwardly.

'Are you okay?' I whisper, combing out my hair and touching him gently on the arm. It's warm in the house so the fact he's pulled a T-shirt and a jumper on is very telling. His hair is damp, pulled away from his face, his face drawn though he wears a pleased smile that hasn't left since we _came_ together.

'Mm. You?'

'Mm isn't an answer, my love?' I remind him. He nods, folds a hand over mine and smiles a little more.

'I warn you now, whatever they have to say, it won't be good.'

It's the sort of sentence to make me frown in confusion but he simply gives me a knowing shrug and once I'm dressed, follows me downstairs.

I hate how he's always right.


	51. Reasons why preparation matters

_**Thank you as ever for your lovely reviews! Sorry things are taking a bit of a slow update but they're not quite over, I promise. This chapter features all different kinds of intensity and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I have. Forgiveness helps.**_

 _ **Thank you for your patience, I will be frever grateful if you'd be so kind as to leave your thoughts as always! Thanks!**_

* * *

They're sitting side by side on the sofa, hot drinks in their hand. Their eyes on the TV, on their wary son, on their clothes, around our house and when Carlisle heads downstairs, they rise to greet us.

It's strange but I follow his lead. Watch as he shakes Senior's hand and lets Elizabeth pull him into a hug. Greeting Senior is a little embarrassing but only because I know he knows. Elizabeth is so wound up in her concerns I doubt she even realised the scent of the two of us melting together, our obvious nudity, the dirty and playful grins.

Senior, however, _knows_.

I can see him say it, the kind of sentence all fathers tell their sons. _We were all young once…_ He's itching to joke, even to his own son if not us. It's funny how daughters don't receive the same.

From my dad it was a shrill ' _but she's just a child?!_ ' followed by the grumblings of every grumpy father. He wasn't a grumpy man up until that point. Sometimes I struggle to remember if he ever looked at me the same after he found out. Probably not with every discovery sending him into fits of frustrated rage.

He was lucky in one sense. When Mom wasn't holding the honour of shitting on my liberalism, my older brothers were. His legacy lived on. The disappointment never ceases.

Which brings us to the Masen's, sitting on the sofa like it's theirs as the three of us hover awkwardly. Liz is looking slightly flushed from the lack of self-control just a second ago and I'm cruel enough still to wonder what tugged the apron strings.

It soon comes back. She's a loving mother. Seeing a child needlessly harmed has to be sickening.

'Sit down, Son. You're making me nervous.'

Carlisle looks up, smiles awkwardly, detaches his folded arms and leans off the bannister to sit instead at the table, pulling the chair around to face everyone. The four of them have this method worked out. It's like a conference, discussing what's next on the agenda.

For the look on Senior's expression, he could be discussing the problem with Neo-Nazi's.

'Would you like to-?' But the small shake of Carlisle's head is enough to take the suggestion from Senior's mouth. He nods, looks to his watery eyed wife and leans forward. 'Well, as you can tell-'

'Dinner!' I suddenly gasp, and excusing myself, I rush into the kitchen. Luckily we're okay. Nothing is burnt. The food smells good. But while I'm in here I make sure to open the windows, to plate up three dishes and offer the third and fourth. Senior tries to decline but Elizabeth nods heartily and sharing the comfort of food, we gather at the table to eat.

I suspect it to be awkwardly quiet but food somehow has this magical quality of easing even the strangest conversation from the mouths of us all. While we eat, Edward is happy to explain about a recent scandal to do with one of his teachers squandering funds meant for another department.

It's only later that I realise this is an attempt to ease Carlisle into the conversation.

'Last night then?' Liz smiles and after a small glass of wine, she's relaxed enough that she can ask this without causing offence.

'Last night.' Carlisle sighs, smiling to allow his wounds to be poked and prodded.

'How about the last month instead?' Senior says. He pushes his empty plate from him, congratulates me on my standard of food, watches Carlisle beam at the compliment and settles his blazer on the pack of his chair.

'We haven't really got a nice foot to start on so for your sake, Esme, Dear, I hope you don't easily get put off your food.'

I immediately swallow my large mouthful and let my fork fall to my plate in a closing statement. Even if I was hungry, which I was, the remark is enough to turn my appetite. Carlisle looks under his eyelashes as me and sips his water.

'To start with-'

He's interrupted by the phone ringing and looks relieved by it. The three of us look to one another until eventually Carlisle decides the ring can't be ignored. He apologises and places to his ear with a slight nervous frown playing on his features.

After a second he rolls his eyes, holding it out to me with a smirk. I'm glad he's got the receiver covered because complaining, I ask who it is.

'Alice.'

'I just got off the phone with Alice?' I say, knowing that that was at least three hours ago now. With a sigh, I take it from him, smile apologetically and ask what's going on.

'What's up?' I murmur, shying from the eyes in the room.

' _Did you not get my text? I've sent you about thirty messages!'_

'What about?'

' _Bella and-_ '

'Alice.' I complain lightly. 'Now really isn't a good time. I'll call you back.'

' _Only call me back if you can get a confessions from him. I can't believe it_.'

'I'll call you later.'

' _Text me_.' She demands, excited.

'I can't. I don't know where it is.'

' _Es. This is sooo important_.'

'Not now, Alice.' I repeat and this time my voice has a harsh impatience that I'm ashamed to have used in front of company. 'I'll phone later.'

' _You don't need to. You're phoning me now_?'

'Goodbye-'

' _Don't be such a bitch_.' She sings, playful but I've already hung up the phone and turn to the four pairs of eyes.

Edward is looking at curious and I deliberately watch him back with the same amount of suspicion to see if he crumbles. He doesn't. That either means he's got no idea what's going on. Or he's fighting hard to stay innocent.

'Sorry.' I murmur, looking at my feet. 'I didn't mean to interrupt.'

I'm half expecting them to overcompensate my concern and fuss around my embarrassment. Liz at least. Instead Senior just inhales and nods to the table like I'm about to be grounded.

'To start with,' he begins again, 'we were not necessarily as in the dark as it might have looked.'

'A-hem.'

He looks, mock-irritatedly at his wife and rolls his eyes. 'Okay, _I,_ specifically, was not as in the dark as it looked…'

'Dark?' Carlisle asks and it takes for them to look towards his voice to realise they're focused on me.

'Esme, Dear, perhaps I should start with an apology.'

It's the second time he's referred to me as Dear. It's not soothing. I can feel my palms start to sweat. I'm meaning to ask his point. I don't. I just wait for him. He turns over his shoulder at his wife, smiles shyly and leans a little towards her.

'My Love, I don't suppose you'll make a Brandy?'

She kisses his temple and excuses herself with a nod, 'I'll see what there is.'

Carlisle is already railing. 'There might only be the old bottle…'

'Three glasses, Liz.'

'Sir... With all due respect…'

Senior postpones his response to the Saint, watches his colour fade from him and simply exercises his patience. It's making me uncomfortable watching him. My hand itching to lay over his, to inhale with him and cool his thinking. I don't move either.

Three glasses are brought to the table, a few watermarks left on the rim in accordance to Edward's poor drying skills. The bottle of Brandy from our cupboard is old, the label sticky and ripped like it might have been trodden on before slapped to the bottle neck with spit. Carlisle polite shakes his head at first but Liz insists and silently, she fills three glasses.

He pushes one towards Carlisle and one towards me like a game. Edward is still standing in the middle of us, his breathing keeping me neutral. Despite declining it, the Saint's hands wrap around the glass as if it's a hot drink in winter and he stares at the liquid inside waiting for Senior to reopen the conversation.

'He's been keeping an eye on you for a while, Esme.'

The words come out quietly. They take their time to surface to the pout of the Masen features yet they manage to pass me like a car doing 90 on the highway. I didn't get chance to catch the number plate.

My passenger did. He flinches, hard, shoulders tensing.

'How long?'

Manners are out the window. All that's left is the cold bitter resentment of betrayal. Senior sighs.

'Years, Carlisle…'

I wonder if the confessional tone is in response to the secret or another underlying issue we're not quite ready to grasp a hold of.

'He hasn't been here for years!' Comes the sharp reply.

'The moment you moved in together….'

'So he's got spies?' He guesses.

It's such a ludicrous statement that I don't believe he's being realistic. Then I see his face and my eyes instantly go to Edward's similar shaped ones. He's shifted closer to me. I'm not sure why, maybe to affirm some loyalty, to beg for comfort, to offer it.

'Carlisle?' Senior starts.

'He _can't_ have known. He couldn't possibly have known. I've been so careful. The address. He doesn't even have the address. How does he know?!'

Funny how they say a change of wind can alter any situation. The breeze from the kitchen manages to tickle around my shoulders. The sniff of Edward's disgust altering his focus and a damn right furious expression quickly changes to suffocation.

His hand goes to his diaphragm and though he breathes in like he's summoning a breath, it's also like he's crushing his sore abdomen closer to him. Like he's trying to break his ribcage.

'No…'

'Son… I can't even begin-'

'You didn't. _You_ didn't.'

'Carlisle-'

'You!' He yells, gesturing now. ' _You_?!'

'I know it sounds bad….'

'With all due respect, Sir, what on Earth were you thinking?!'

'Carlisle- I couldn't- I.'

He takes in a breath, a shamed one, he looks to his wife for encouragement and she nods. He's hard for him to see it at the moment. My Saint. It's just another act of pain onto his heavy shoulders but the devastation in their eyes.

They love him.

'Son-'

'Carlisle,' I soothe, peering around Edward to look at where he's eyelevel with his bookshelf. He's looking at a leather bound copy of the bible. He's squinting at it as if the cover is unreadable. Both hands are clenched.

'This whole time?! This whole time they've been spying on _you_.'

'That doesn't matter-' I mutter, quickly and I think it's one of those sentences I'm just repeating out of necessity.

'It doesn't matter?! Of course it matters! I've been endangering you this whole time just from _knowing_ you.'

'It's not like that.' I say consciously, pushing out my chair with difficulty. 'You can't think like that!'

'How can I not?! It's sickening, I'm just this spreading _cancer_. Everything good and healthy, I infect-'

I jump at the acid in his tongue but Edward looks worse.

'HEY! You know that's not true-!' He snaps but the bite he receives has us both backing down.

'Do I?!' He retorts. Friend to friend, brother to brother, rage distorting his gentle expression with no place to store it. 'Face it Edward, every second of your life has been _endangered_ and if it's not by me then it's by them!' He turns now, facing the parents again though they grip hands. He stands addresses them now, or rather Senior but by attachment, Liz. He feels so much louder than he's actually being. 'You _know_ him. You know what it's like, you have seen every last bit of information regarding this insanity. Why would you involve him this?! Or her?! Why encourage me to be a part of your lives when you knew full well of the issues.'

'We just wanted you to have a normal life….' Liz begins, and though her voice isn't shaky, there's enough emotion behind it to make him think.

'I don't get to have a normal life. None of this life is normal. Dragging people down around it to sustain that false perception of normality is ridiculous!'

'Son,' he repeats.

'Can't you see what you have done?!' He growls again.

I step towards him, behind Edward but he surprises me in moving to his left. Out of my way.

'Every person I get close to-'

'I didn't have a choice, Carlisle.' Senior murmurs, guilty.

'There's always a choice!' He responds, angrily.

'He was going to revoke your visa. He'd already had this whole claim filled out. It was waterproof. There's not one clause. Not one gap. I couldn't let him do that-'

'Why not?!'

'Why not? I won't let him isolate you, Carlisle. I'd already had restraining orders set in place. I had no consideration of the harm from him simply knowing where you lived when he was just about ready to drag you away.'

This makes him stop, even momentarily. 'He was going to do that?'

'The paperwork was done. He was in the process of sending it when I confronted him.' He explains, Brandy glass circling in his hand as he takes minute sips when our attention is focused.

'When?' Carlisle asks, voice hard.

'May 'thirteen.'

'Three years ago?! This is why he moved here…'

'…Yes.'

'He's here because of _you_?!'

'And you're here because of them!' I interrupt, just as loud. Both men turn to me, frowning, not expecting my little voice to break through their passion so perfectly but it does so. 'They damn well rescued you and it's in your best interest to remember that!'

'I do remember that.' He replies, quieter now. 'But at what cost? What was the point in starting this life here when it meant causing harm everywhere else?!'

'You don't cause harm.' Edward mutters. 'Fucking hell, Carlisle. What about what Maddison said last night? The fact that you're already in the process of being a surgeon. That doesn't come easily, Carlisle. That's not normal. Everybody you meet-'

'You make them better.' I finish. 'You're not the cancer. Or the infection. Or the poison. You make everyone better. And if that comes with the price of exposure, then so be it.'

'Esme…' He frowns again, leaning painfully the table now, thinking. When he speaks, his voice is still hard. 'You're a private person. So are you, Edward. He is taking that from you…'

'So?' I dismiss.

'So?!' He repeats. 'Es, anyone you've ever spoken to. Any late night conversation, every drunken party, every argument on the phone. Everything…. It's been watched.'

'But-'

'We've never been alone. That's how you should think of it. Every time you think you're opening up to me, you're not. You're opening up to him.'

'I refuse to think like that!' I reply, hotly.

'Then you're ignoring the facts!'

'When are you going to get it through your head? I don't care. I don't care who knows, I don't give a shit whose keeping tabs on me and I sure as hell don't give a flying fuck about some Randomer being that paranoid they have to keep an eye on me-'

'Fine. But what about if it was Alice?'

The blue of his eyes are so piercing at this moment that I feel the breath escape me.

'Carlisle.' Edward murmurs. 'Not here.'

He doesn't back down. Maybe he wants to, the concern and the fear in his eyes pleading with him to stop but his arms are locked in the coiled spring.

'It's not Alice.' I say, quietly.

'What if Alice knew?'

'I…I… I can't answer that…' I stutter. 'I'm only… I can't…. Don't you realise that I'm protecting you? She can't know.'

'And that's exactly what I'm doing.' He replies, totally without energy, his shoulders slumped. 'I'm trying to protect you. To keep you safe and if leaving the country is the way to do it, then fine.'

'Like hell you will!'

'I won't let you live in this constant harassment-'

'And I won't live without you!' I yell.

There's a horrible silence. A disgusting one. Eyes on us, not knowing where to go. Hands fidgeting, becoming uncomfortable. My heart hammering.

'If you leave this country then okay. That's fine. But I'm coming with you…'

'Es…'

'Even Washington. I don't give a shit. I don't care Carlisle. I care about being…with you.'

'But…'

'No.' I say, quietly. 'But no. End of conversation.'

I've managed to work my way to the table now. He's still hunched, hands spread on the table and so I carefully lay my hand over the top. My petite painters hand shrouding his Surgeon's hand. He inhales and loosens ever so slightly.

'What do they know?' This isn't to me. It's to Edward senior who is clasping his drink nervously.

'Everything.'

'Explicitly?' He pushes.

Senior sighs again. 'Sit down, Son.'

And so he does. He breathes a few times. He thinks about something and then he pulls out a chair and sits on it. He's not touching me anymore, not really. But under the table, his foot is hooked around my chair leg, close to my foot. Together.

Edward is now sitting where I was at the head of the table. I'm opposite senior and Liz is opposite Carlisle who is looking more and more exhausted, the harder he tries to listen.

'Perhaps it's best if just you and I speak for the moment, Esme?'

'No.' I say with a snort. 'Just go on.'

Everything I could've underestimated in the space of an hour at most, goes underestimated. There are things that I couldn't even name which he manages to speak about. He's got my family decided, he knows how many miles is on my car, there's evidence in everything and none of us have any clue on how the information was acquired.

'That's what I don't understand.' Carlisle murmurs. 'Who could possibly know us enough to grasp so much information?'

It's been another hour. He's calmer, a lot calmer and simply looks like a kid half asleep at the theatre. He's opened his posture towards me now ,though neither of us use it, and keeps both hands displayed around his chin.

Lucky for us, if it is lucky which I seriously doubt, our first year together has somehow managed to be as ignored in worth as my Saint was happy to dismiss beforehand. The spying doesn't start till moving day. Exactly from moving day.

It's difficult for Senior. He's embarrassed enough as it is but then having to repeat the information back to us from memory is somewhat worse. Especially considering he only recently discovered the information himself.

'The broken plant pot buried beneath the porch…'

'You know about that?' I say, blushing and it takes for Carlisle's curiosity to simple lighten the conversation.

IT feels light-hearted at first. It could almost be a joke because that's how he starts us off, easy. He eases us into it so well that we dismiss the issues with secrecy almost immediately.

'Darts in the garden?' Carlisle repeats, frowning.

'Emmett.' I say, rolling my eyes.

'Marijuana?' Senior adds, carefully. Carlisle raises a hard eyebrow at me.

'Again…Emmett…'

'Es, I swear…'

'It was just the once, I promise. And he was high before he even came over. We were trying to calm him down before you came home and freaked.'

'We?' He asks and Edward comically excuses himself to go and make a drink.

Friends are easy to discuss. The parties, the low downs. Outfits that I've worn. Glasses that I've broke. Number of times I've cursed out Edward's parking. Then it comes to the horrible stuff.

The number of arguments I've fallen into. Either with friends or strangers or my family. The amount of times I've sworn in public. Where I've worked, who I've worked for. How long? How much money I made. How many Yoga classes I went to. The things I buy for a weekly grocery shop. The amount of times I've sat on the porch and waited for Carlisle to come home because I've lost my keys.

The conversations we've had on the porch. The awkward clumsy, show off conversations. How many times I've smoked out my window.

Then it gets to the worst bit of all.

'I really think I should stop…' Senior says, catching his wife who has been rubbing his shoulder for near on two hours now.

Edward was lounging on the chair but as the information has become creepier, he's sitting up straighter. Carlisle's resting on his elbow, his eyes never leaving my face while Senior and I talk. I'm amazed he's managed to keep so straight faced. Not judging me once. Even when I've bumped into his car…

'Is there more?' I ask, confused. Carlisle yawns a little and covers his mouth. Senior nods.

'What more could there possibly be to say?' I laugh, rubbing my eyes.

'There's also a section on… partners.'

'Partners?' I repeat and suddenly I feel sick.

'There's a number. Miniature profiles of some. More detailed on others. How long they've stayed.'

'Disgusting.' Carlisle curses, looking at me. 'This is what I mean. This it's…vile.'

'They weren't all _that_ bad.' I joke but I see his expression and stop my giggle.

'Esme this is the depth of the information they have on you. They know these things. Whoever the fuck 'they' is.'

The casual swearing catches me again and I have to pull myself up straighter to avoid from laughing in tune with him.

'It was hardly a secret, dude.' Edward murmurs and I nod a little.

'Edward's right.'

'Doesn't make it any better.' He complains.

'Anyway. So they have a number on that. Great.'

'And how many late night pharmacies you've been too…' Senior murmurs quietly.

'What?!' This is both Carlisle and I now. Both yelling in disgust.

Firstly, I have been to one late pharmacy for my own need. The other countless times I've been to a late night pharmacy, is because Alice is ridiculous when it comes to avoiding pregnancy. It's ridiculous.

'The issue to do with the club?' He adds, looking at the table, embarrassed. It's only fair he be embarrassed now that Carlisle, Edward and I are seemingly unimpressed.

'The club?' I ask.

'The incident with Miss Tilly-'

'Fantastic.' I curse.

'Vile.' Carlisle repeats, voice becoming stern again. 'Unbelievably, ridiculously vile. All of them-'

'There's also…' He stops, drains his brandy and shakes his head. 'Edward leave the room.'

'What? Why me?'

'You, too, Liz. And you, Son.' He looks to the three he's announced though they don't move.

It's a little silly, it would be far easier to simply excuse ourselves but he doesn't. He dismisses them.

'It's fine.' I murmur, shaking my head. 'There's nothing I have to hide. They can stay.'

'Esme… I…'

'It's fine.' I insist, a little more sleepily. Though he agrees, he shakes his head too.

'But I insist on Edward and Liz.'

Edward rolls his eyes but follows his mother out the room. Senior watches them go, judging their curiosity with something a little harder than suspicion. Carlisle is leant towards him but I am so bored of having my failures written out in front of me that I hardly care anymore.

He can do his worse. There's nothing I have to hide. Not anymore.

'There's also the matter of work…' He whispers. 'The coffee shop.'

Carlisle's hand tightens. 'You know about that?!'

'I didn't get chance to read much on it. But that's been catalogued to…. Your history.'

'History?' I repeat, confused.

'It's not history.' Carlisle sneers and before he can go overboard I grab his hand to reign him in. 'But it's not. It's not history and it's not okay. Its _assault_ -'

'Assault?!' Senior exclaims. 'What assault?!'

'I thought everything was written in there?' I joke, sourly, rolling my eyes but Senior lowers both voice and tone and lastly, himself.

'Esme…they have very explicit stuff documented.'

'Do they?' I ask, sarcastic and rude and a completely hostile host. My mother would be ashamed. 'How convenient.'

'I…' He pauses and looks away. 'I don't think you're understand just how much information they have on you…'

'A lot?' I guess.

'There's a detailed account of your relations with Mr King.'

'Detailed account?' I scoff when the word catches me. ' _Relations_? What relations? There are no relations?!'

'The…' He stops, ignores Carlisle and covers his mouth. 'Please forgive me, but you need to know… There's detailed accounts of the oral sex performed in the back office.'

Just like that, the floor of which I balanced the last of my dignity, slips through my fingertips. It cracks beneath the floor. The lava comes boiling through to it. Through my skin and back again.

Account _s_.

'That's a lie!' Carlisle roars, chair crashing to the floor beneath him but I'm gripping the table. The oral sex?!

'There wasn't any oral sex!' I snap.

'They were very explicit-' Senior poses awkwardly.

'Well they're also full of shit. They're making it up-' Carlisle rants.

'There's two accounts-'

'I'm telling you, its bullshit!' Carlisle yells.

'It didn't.' I gasp now, sucking the air into my lungs because I know it's trying to escape me. 'He tried but…

'Tried?' Carlisle repeats, and his hand comes to his mouth. 'He didn't-?'

'Tilly walked in.' I respond monotously. 'And it gave me the escape I needed… Carlisle…I'm so…-'

'Escape?' senior repeats. 'It wasn't consensual?!'

'Of course it wasn't consensual!' Carlisle growls. 'The bastards. The absolute-'

'Stop!' I insist, scrubbing at my head. 'We've already had this argument. I don't want it again.'

'I can't… I can't accept him doing this….'

'You said _assault_?' Senior says, leaning away before turning to look at me in horror. 'How many of these relations with Mr. King consensual?'

'None of them!' I say, bitterly. 'Obviously none of them! Why would any of them be _consensual_?!'

He puts his hand to his mouth, too. Then he stands up, he walks away from the table, stands by the mirror on the other side of the room, close to the television and stares hard at himself.

'That's who it is.' I murmur to Carlisle, fingers curling around his hand. 'Now we know. It's them.'

'How can he possibly know about the parties we've had? The jobs before him? How can he know the exact number of times you've stayed over at the Waldermans? How can he _know?!'_

'Carlisle?-'

'Oh my God…'

'What?' I ask, sleepy, irritated and just in need to curl up and sleep.

'What about the beach?'

'The beach?' I ask.

'Officer Swan was called. It must have been him.'

'So much for out the country…' I mutter, rubbing my forehead.

'This is just sick!' He yells, hands curling in his hair. 'This isn't right.'

I've spent so log arging aainst him that now I can't disagree. Sure, I didn't give a damn when I though people were simply concerned with what I brought for dinner. Things were a different manner when it's my boss. More importantly…. When things are being rewritten.

'It wasn't consensual.' Senior repeats, disgusted. ' _Fuckers_.'

'The coffee shop? If that's what it is then this whole time-'

'What?' I ask impatiently.

'HE's grooming yu to this response. All of it. IT's deliberate. It's planned. He's had it planned. He's been preying on you-'

And just as the onslaught of horror takes over him, I grab both his fists.

'If you leave through that door, I'll be gone-'

'Esme! BE reasonable!' He demands, furious, snarling almost.

'I am being reasonable!' I yell back. 'If you so much as wish his death, I'm out. I can't. I can't do it, Carlisle and I refuse to let it make you into something you're not.'

The words come out in an awkward rush mainly because I have no idea if I believe them or not. I just know if he leaves… I'll be alone. And that's not something I can think about right now. Even if I happened to be in a jail cell.

'There must be something we can do?!'

'No.' I mutter. Both of them give me a look of utter disgrace. Different in every way, in every colour except those expressions. 'No. I don't care. It's done, it's over.'

'It's not over.' Carlisle mutters but it takes for Senior's correction to make the lava rise to my neck.

'It's _far_ from over…'

'What?'

'That's what I came to tell you as well. After you left, he sent everyone home. Didn't get a chance to speak to any of your business partners but he didn't need to.'

'What?' Carlisle asks, stealing my words from me.

'He's been embeling money Carlisle. It's in your name. All of it. And The application. There was a huge argument. Massive. He's done a lot of damage to the property-'

'Sir?!' Carlisle interrupts, impatiently. 'What application?!'

'Your visa…'

I tilt my head up, eyes up to the ceiling, watching the cracks start to appear before my eyes.

'That's all I got before knocking him out. If it wasn't for Elizabeth… well…' He opens up his right hand and for the first time since he walked through the door I realise the knuckles look a little tender. Nothing in comparison to Carlisle of course. But still pretty foul.

'He's got technical proof of the money being yours. He's got explanations written that he's ready to send to the police. He's got it worked out-'

'Embezzlement is prison, though.' I correct, frowning. 'If he's got you for something like that then you're going to be imprisoned-'

'He's already had conversations with Aro. They're going to bail you out-'

'I don't have to accept the bail-' He fights, pathetically.

'You haven't got an option, Son.' Mr Masen adds miserably. 'It's out of our hands. It's all been set up. I only just managed to catch a glimpse of it all.'

'So after all that… I've got no hope anyway?'

'There's always hope.' Liz says from the doorway. Carlisle turns, sighs and offers an exhausted smile before opening his arm out to her for a hug. Perhaps it's exhaustion. Maybe he's giving up but I am repulsed with him. I see the look on her face, the emotion flood through her when she rushes towards him and scoops him in her arms. 'Whatever it takes, you're not going anywhere.'

'Consider it a holiday.' He jokes, a smart side smile appearing out of nowhere. It's maddening. Maddening how willingly he accepts it. Maddening that I can't bear to add one word of support.

'We're doing our best.' Senior responds, turning towards us. 'I've spent all day eyeing the paper work. But he's got the majority of it all.'

'Why has he got it?' I ask. The sound of my voice is bitter, creepy. Like diamonds scraping down glass.

'He has my birth certificate.' Carlisle responds, guiltily.

The fact we're speaking hard at each other is more telling than when we were arguing.

'How can he possibly have your birth certificate? You have a job? And a car? And a passport?!'

But the expressions between them all move my stomach to nausea again.

'It's fake.' I realise, hysterically. 'It's forged.'

'Yeah…'

'Of course.' I say, laughing. 'Just our luck, right?'

'Es?'

'I'm going to bed.'

'Esme-?' He repeats, stepping towards me but I step way a little and turn my focus on the three Masen's in turn. Edward is looking the most alarmed. Very pale as he tries to understand where to start.

My goodnights are hollow. I hug them all, ignore their apologies, thank their concerns. I let Elizabeth crush me to her. I let Senior make more false promises. I let Edward mock and call me rude. I let Carlisle watch me go.

And I lay on my bed.

In my room.

For the first time in four years, I'm overcome with the sudden hysterical feeling of loneliness and I don't respond well to it.

* * *

At four in the morning, when the darkness is edging into light from the open window, their car rolls from the driveway. There's two lots of steps. The first veering off followed by the slam of a door. The second pair hesitates.

I've been staring at the same spot for several hours now. My wardrobe. We picked out the slats of wood. I designed it on the back of his oven manual. Measured it with a tape measure that caught his chin when I wasn't focusing. I used his fountain pen to draw out the angles. The screwdriver was one we borrowed from the Walderman's. Carlisle had insisted on helping. And I'd nearly lost my temper at him four times. Little did I know it was the first wardrobe he'd ever built. The first time he'd let his guard down enough to trust someone else's creativity.

To the day one of the screws is bent where he lost focus for half a second.

Plenty of wardrobes to build in Italy. Or in France. Or Canada.

Like a fugitive on the run. For no real reason.

The tentative rap of his knuckles could equally be his resistance to enter or the pain of his stiff hand. I have no idea which. I can't find my voice though. So I just lay here, staring, knees against my chest and my hands under my cheek.

All my bedding is in his room.

'Esme?'

I can only hum.

The door creaks when he uses it. Groans and whines and pleads.

'May I come in?'

'Sure.' I reply, silently, not meaning to be as unwelcoming as I sound.

His steps are slow, edging closer to the bed patiently. He's standing on the edge of the bed, fingers intertwined, feet fidgeting.

'I don't want to go…' he says softly. I move my chin in his direction. He takes a risk, and an unsteady breath, and gently sits on the corner by my feet. He's focused on his hands. 'We'll work something out. Just you see. I'll be back before you know it.'

He tries to smile but it's weak and vulnerable and breaks easily under my staring.

'Being without you for any length of time…' He starts. His right hand hovers about my ankle, he's about to drop it when he pulls it back again and shakes his blonde hair. 'I'll fix this…'

'Carlisle?'

He looks up in the dark. The darkness shrouding us entirely, his lips, his eyes, his nose. I lean up a little, reach out to touch his sore cheek and feel my stomach collapse when he leans into my warmth. It allows me to hold his chin up, to press my lips against his and then do it again with more fervour.

Then the addiction of having him, of nearly losing him, it's too much to handle and I bury myself so much in his scent in preparation of losing it.

For the third time that day we make love. But I guess, it's not as new as it is to the other times. There's something else about it, the desperation, the need to be together, the inability to loosen my hold from his skin. The refusal to let go.

To ever let go.

It's the slowest we've ever gone.

When we wake in the morning, warmed only by the pressure of each other's nudity, the sun shining through my window, I find we've barely moved since last night.

I can't even tell if we showered, it's a bit of a blur. A warm one, wrapped in his arms, ignoring yesterday evening. Because I can't bear to think on it. Once he's out the country, how would he ever get back? There's always the work visa but without his birth certificate…

I don't bother texting Alice. Mainly because I still can't find my phone. I just lay against him for as long as possible, absorbing his warmth. The downstairs phone rings but I miss it. In fact, I don't even bother running for it.

I just lay with his sunshine on my body and contemplate what it really means when he has to go.

It's not something I want to contemplate. Nor ever.

So for the next three days, we are the blissfully sickeningly couple that everybody hates. He doesn't have work till Wednesday and I refuse to do anything that might take my mind away from him till I have to.

We do everything. We make out in the theatre. In the back of a car. Nearly get caught by Edward n the middle of sofa sex. We eat together, we study together and we basically try to absorb the other into our daily life.

Monday evening however, our much time guest makes a visit.

The phone has been ringing all day. I keep missing it. A few times we were in the garden or the kitchen. We've been fixing his window, too which has been a pointless pain in the ass and the more time we spend together, the harder we ignore the previous evening.

'Is that the phone again?' He asks, turning towards the ring, duster in hand as he continues to buff the glass.

'Sure.' I murmur, finishing painting the edges.

'That's the sixth time today. See who it is, will you?'

'Do it yourself. It's _your_ house.' I retort, wrinkling my nose.

'Es. Please?'

'No.'

'Babe?'

'Fine!' I sing, kissing his temple.

I manage to miss it, of course. Something I yell about from up the stairs but he's too focused.

'It can't be that important.' I try to say, shrugging nonchalantly.

It's been a good day so far. I mean we're not naked yet. But we don't necessarily have to be, I'm having just as much fun watching him work.

'If there's been six missed phone calls today then I actually-' He's interrupted by several fierce taps on the front door. Followed by another ring of the phone. 'You were saying?' He responds smartly.

'You get the door, I'll get the phone.'

'I'm fixing the window-'

'It's already fixed!' I retort back.

We're still jokingly bickering when we get downstairs. He's grinning, the smart smile warm with his split lip healing, his hand is on the door, he's murmuring words at the moment I pick up the phone.

'Esme speaking-'

And the door opens.

For a moment I think this must one of those awful hallucinations you have when you're overtired. That's what it feels like. It feels like the breath it out of my chest, the floor caving in again and just when I think to answer, he's yelling at me.

'What is your problem with answering the freaking phone?!' He yells, crushing the button off with a thumb and glaring hard at me.

Carlisle stumbles a little, and then opens the door wider to welcome him in but I'm not moving for the second just in case I'm right and this isn't real.

He's shorter than I always picture him. Straighter, too. He doesn't stoop. The suit he's wearing is an attempt at casual I think but it's still an easy suit which suggests he's just walked from some office in the city. The older he gets the more I see my mom.

But I have no idea if that's because of the glare or the awkward dark eyebrows sitting low on his face.

'Rich?' I ask shakily.

'Come here and hug me will you?!'

I don't move but he scoops me in my arms so I'm little again. I'm tiny and I'm being torn away from the mean guys on the playground. It takes me a few seconds to relax. But when I do, I'm overcome with the familiar smell of aftershave, dirt and starch.

'Why didn't you phone?' I ask shakily but the response is such a hard glare that I shut up pretty soon.

'Is that a joke?'

'Ha?' I worm out, looking uncomfortably at the floor. 'What… What are you doing here?'

'You wanna get to that now?' He asks and even from here I can tell it's rhetorical. Carlisle seems fascinated in the interchange, smiling warmly and offering to go make a drink when my brother stops him. 'No don't move. Let's have this conversation here.'

'Conversation?' I ask. 'You only just got here? Let me make you a drink-'

I'm about to spin away from him from he grabs me by the wrist and tugs me back into the room. Carlisle suddenly looks pale.

'Stop being a lil' bitch and let me get this over with. Because of your damn impoliteness, I can't stay very long.'

'You're not stopping?' I ask in disbelief.

'If I am, I'll be leaving early next morning. I'm meant to be in Tokyo by Thursday morning.'

'Thursday?' I repeat. 'That's hardly anytime… What about Jennifer?'

'She's with Mom. Like you should be…'

'And there it is.' I groan, my hands coming into my hair.

'Maybe I should-' Carlisle begins gently, directing himself to the kitchen.

'Don't move an inch, you sack of shit.' My brother commands, pointing sharply enough that it's like he yelled. 'You're lucky I'm in a good mood.'

I think Carlisle must take this as a joke because he laughs, nervously and then frowns. My eyes are rolling which is lucky. Because I'm mad enough I could punch him.

'If you could refrain from insulting my flatmates-'

'If you could refrain from being a damn slut-'

'Woah!' Carlisle intervenes, face flushed as the confusion turns into something else. I dismiss his faffing, and Richard's for that matter and repeat myself.

'What are you on about?'

He drops his shoulder and grasps his bad strap in the last second, rifling through the insides before slapping some sort of newspaper to my chest. The force is a little more than he'd intended and when I stumble, I see Carlisle's jaw go hard.

'And what the _fuck_ is this?!'

Obviously it's a newspaper. Less obviously its local tripe revealing the worst ball I think I've ever been too. When I don't answer, he, like my mother, feels the need to fill the noiseless space with biased observations.

'Do you know how mad Mom is right now?'

'Why?' I ask, feigning disinterest though the excitement of seeing him has now bubbled over into nausea.

'Get to page three where your tits are on display!'

Again, the jaw in my eyeline is hard and when he opens his mouth I shake my head curtly.

'They're not on display.' I correct.

'Oh yeah? Try explaining that to Mom. She's furious. She was seconds away from jumping in the car and driving herself. You're lucky I was in the area.'

'This is lucky?' Carlisle mutters under his breath and that slight murmur of a voice is enough for Richard's arm to come out, nearly winding him but for his quick movement out the way.

'You wanna be careful opening your mouth around me, Kid. I've read the damn thing and I don't give a shit how much of a daddy's billionaire you've worked your way into. If I find out you've so much as thought about her naked, your teeth are decorating my car. Got it?!'

'Richard! What the fuck?! Lay off of him!'

Though he's far too confused right now to understand the implications of the suggestion, Carlisle still raises his hands in surrender.

'What is wrong with you?!'

'What is wrong with me?! You're in the paper! We don't hear from you for years almost and this is the first bit of news we get on you?!'

'That's not fair!' I argue. 'You know exactly why I haven't contacted you. Besides, it's a two way street. This is the first time you've been down here since I moved-'

'I shouldn't have to be down here, Esme! You should be at home!'

'I am at home!' I yell.

'Should I step-' Carlisle starts to say but he gets an angry 'No!' from the two of us.

'You know how ridiculous this is?!' He snorts back, trying to seem taller. 'It's gone on for far too long. It's over, it's finished, we see your point. Now come back before you send her into Bedlam!'

'Oh yeah?' I mock back. 'Then what's my point? Why am I down here?'

'For your art thing. I said we get it.'

'What art thing?' I push, my nose shifting.

'Your programme-' he says quickly, trying to skip over it.

'No. Tell me _exactly_ what programme I'm doing. What programme am I studying?'

'The art one!' He yells. 'It's not important, Esme. The point is-'

'Not important?! Architecture. I studied _architecture_. I completed my studies for architecture and now I'm looking into interior design and portraits.'

'Look, I don't give a shit if you're painting by numbers. You know we're proud of you-.'

'You don't even know what course I'm doing.'

'You need to come home!' He insists, a hand on my arm.

'Why?!' I repeat, louder.

'She's sick.'

'Sick in the head.' I mutter.

'Mom. She's sick.'

'What?' The breath seems to come out of me quicker than I would've liked and though Carlisle moves towards me, the obstruction of Rich's posture stops him.

'Yeah.'

'What's wrong with her?' I ask, heart hammering, mouth drying. The nausea rising. He shrugs.

'She's just sick... Cancer.'

'That's a lie isn't it?' I realise, shaking my head.

'The point is-' He doesn't get a point, I'm already punching him as hard as I can a few times.

'You asshole! Why would you say that?!'

'Why?!' He asks. 'Obviously because I'm trying to get your attention-'

'If I might be so bold…' Carlisle interrupts and though he enters the conversation without warning, his tone is firm enough for me to focus on the sound.

'Look, Kid-'

'Carlisle.'

'Carlisle, then.' My brother corrects, rolling his eyes when a hand is offered to him.

'Richard. Dude.' He wants to roll his eyes again but he settles for shaking the Saint's hand and dropping it a mere seconds after like its diseased. I think the discomfort in Carlisle's eyes is worse than I wanted to experience but he's trying very hard to appear neutral.

'Carlisle. That's it right? Let me guess. You've got a house, you're a doctor, you've got a driveway with three cars on it. Your name reeks of royalty and you're wearing slacks in this weather-'

'Stop it.' I groan, nudging him.

'Point being?' My Saint asks, skirting around the line of the bait.

'Point being _we're_ not like _you_. Not even slightly. To be in the paper is a pretty huge thing for someone like my sister.' The sharp jaw bears down harder and he keeps his focus on ignoring me. My brother continues to ramble on. 'Massive really. Now you look at those articles and tell me what my family has to be proud of.'

'Don't look at it.' I say, holding my hand on Richard's, albeit, overly large wrist.

I should be angrier, perhaps it's just disbelief. But Richard and I always worked in opposites. We were close when we were younger but only because he wasn't trying to iron me out exactly how he irons out his recruits. Things were simpler without the army.

He wavers, blue scanning the offering at hand and listening to my words.

'Go on.' Rich says, handing the paper over.

'Please don't.' I repeat. 'I don't want you to see this.'

Richard snorts. 'Always take your orders from a girl. Just read the damn paper.'

Carlisle sighs, looks guiltily my way and reads the front page. The front. The very front. It's telling the reader to skip ahead a few pages and he does so. Opening to a double page spread, mouth opening in protest.

The words hit him at once.

'Escort.' Richard says for us all. ' _Escort_?! They're calling my sister an escort?! Can you see why Mom is hysterical?!'

'It wasn't like that-' I insist, snapping at him.

'I _know_ , Esme.' He groans again, and shakes his head, hand coming to rest on his buzz cut before slipping down to the sofa. 'You're just a kid.'

'I am twenty-three years old!' I correct.

'And you still can't see the extent of your actions! I'm pleading with you. Come home. For her sake.'

'She doesn't want me home.' I growl. 'And I don't want to go. I am here, this is where I am. Like it or not, I'm not going anywhere.'

'I can't do it, Esme.' He groans. 'I've got my own life too and for you to abandon your responsibilities- well, it's selfish.'

'I'm being selfish?!'

'Responsibilities?' Carlisle asks, quietly.

'There's schools in Ohio. If you're that keen to build a bastard building then fine. I'll even give you the money-'

'It's not about that-' I say, louder.

Carlisle folds the newspaper, holds it by his hip and tilts his head before repeating himself. 'You said responsibilities. What responsibilities?'

'What?'

'It's just that right now, and excuse my rudeness, Es. Right now you have tonnes of responsibilities. You've got lessons to go to. You've got payments to make. Graduate schemes and job opportunities. You've got friends to support and appointment's to make. You have a responsibility to take care of yourself… how are you meant to do that in Ohio?'

It's a strange argument considering yesterday. I'm starting to wonder if it's reverse psychology. I don't want to hear about lal my responsibilities. It's sickening.

'She's not the only one suffering, Kid.'

'Carlisle.' He repeats, standing tall and despite the tone there's a flicker of respect on my brother's face.

'You have no idea the extent of the issues and ignoring them doesn't make them go away-'

'Exactly!' I say, whining.

'It isn't just about you, Esme. You know Henry and Molly are verging on divorce?'

'What?!'

'The kids have been staying with Mom since January. She's got the paperwork filed, she won't listen and Daniel… you need to speak to him Esme.'

'What's wrong with Daniel?' I ask and I can feel my chest tighten the moment his name comes from my tongue. 'What's happened?'

'Nothing….yet…' He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose as though the air is toxic. 'He's just not right…'

'So Mom?'

'You don't even want to hear about the twins?' He says, rubbing the salt harder until my skin erodes.

'Of course I do-'

'Both into private schools. Both of them are using every opportunity they can to act as spoilt as they like and she is…crumbling. She can't do it anymore Esme. She needs you.'

'She hasn't even contacted me.' I retort.

'You said some hurtful stuff, what did you expect?'

'She called me a whore. She called me a whore, she trashed my home and used Dad's death to shit on me. I'll admit, I wasn't the nicest that day, either.'

His eyes briefly flash to Carlisle whose thinking deeply on the comment with a frown. A horrible frown. He can't quite believe what he's hearing.

'Maybe you should go?' He murmurs, realising his initial attempt was fuck off pathetic. Now his desperation is ridiculous.

'What?!' I shout in disbelief. Richard looks round too, confused.

'Forgiveness is-'

'It's overrated.' I snap.

'If you go, even for a week. It'll give us time. You won't be followed, you won't be spied on or attacked-'

'Wait, what?!' Rich's arms come out, holding us at bay. 'You've been hurt?'

'Did you read the article or just look at the pictures?' I sneer, before turning with disgust to Carlisle. 'No. I don't give a shit. I'm not being frightened away. Not by them and not by my brother.'

'If you've been hurt then there's no way you can stay-'

'It isn't your choice, Richard! It's mine and for you to wait till you need me to find where I am… It's disgusting. I'm not a babysitter-'

'She needs you, Esme! I need you! I need you to come home and do what you do best. Look after her.'

'You want me to return home and be the punch bag and I won't do it. You've heard Carlisle. I've got responsibilities here.'

'So this is what you're saying?' He spits, glaring at me. 'You're really choosing this over your own flesh and blood?!'

'There is no choice, Richard!'

'You know what… maybe Mom's right. Maybe you are just a selfish whore-'

'You need to leave.' Carlisle murmurs and then louder. 'You need to leave this house, you need to calm down and maybe when you've learnt a bit of respect…'

'You're kicking me out?!'

'We've had plenty of practice in the last few days.' Carlisle says, eyes flicking to me for just under a second.

'Fine! But that doesn't change anything-'

'Out!' Carlisle snarls.

So he does. He wavers in his suit shoes. He looks hard at me and within seconds the maddening disgust takes over and hanging his head, he leaves silently out the front door. My chest hurts when I watch him leave through the front door. The thought that it might be a few years until I see him and that's if he survives. If he lives. It's never a guarantee. I feel a headache brewing

The silence is as eerie as the chattering of yesterday's voices.

'I'm sorry.' Carlisle murmurs and then a hand appears on my shoulder. 'Oh my love, I'm so sorry.'

'He has a temper.'

'It's not an excuse.' He answers.

'I know.' I sigh. 'I know it's not but he's always had a temper. He's closer to Mom out of the four of us. She digs her claws in and he acts…'

'Should I have not said anything?'

'That's not what I'm saying…'

'You knew about the paper…' He thinks about it for a second, his cologne teasing my neck, along my nose like a scarf. 'How did you know?'

'I didn't want you to read it.'

'Because I would be angry?' He guesses, sounding calm.

'Because it's humiliating and yes, I didn't want you to be angry.'

'There's nothing to be angry about.'

'Nothing?' I ask. 'Carlisle, you're preparing to be out of the country. You're actually thinking about _leaving_ -'

'There's no other way- there's no choice.'

'There's always a choice.' I disagree.

It hits me then. There's _always_ a choice.

* * *

We try to spend the rest of the evening being semi productive but the harrowing events of our weekend and the people disturbing it is becoming extreme and in the end, we end up asleep on the sofa, eyes unable to open, huddled in each other's arms.

I'm refusing to move before I have to. Even if everything is telling me to leave.

'Es?' Edward whispers, shaking my shoulder gently. I whine, stretch and try not to disturb Carlisle who happens to be already awake.

'What's up?' I ask, keeping my voice low.

'There's someone outside for you. Been sitting on the porch for a few hours.'

'Tell him to fuck off.' I say, burying my face in Carlisle's jumper. His chest expands, a warm hand stroking my arm.

'You don't mean that.' He says under his breath.

'Maybe I do.'

'Es, he brought flowers.' Edward says, eyebrows raising. 'I really think you should speak to him.'

'Fine! Fine, but when I start balling my eyes out- you both owe me ice cream.' I warn, hands coming up. 'Tonnes of ice cream.'

Edward is right. He's sitting on the porch steps, head in his hands, hunched over like he has stomach ache. Though he's several years older than me, he looks so juvenile, so miserable that I feel my anger ease out of my pores.

'You can't stay out here all night, Richard.'

'I know.' He murmurs and when he turns to face me I get the faintest suggestion he's been crying. 'You know I love you, Maple.'

'I know.' I respond, bristling a little at the term of affection. Maple. Like the tree in our garden.

'You being away… it's not easy.' He sighs. 'It's easy when it was just me who abandoned you all. But knowing she…pushed you out. Seeing my baby sister slandered. Can't you see how hard that is on us?'

'I understand.'

'It doesn't matter how mad she is, Esme. She loves you. She's worried and we can barely know if you're safe all because she refuses to pick up the phone.'

'Why don't you come inside?' I say, softly now. 'I don't want you getting cold the night before your flight.'

As he stands, I realise Edward's right. He's carrying a small bunch of half-dead flowers. They're the cheap ones you expect from a garage but I take them from him gratefully.

'He's not the worst guy…'

'You might actually like him if you stopped judging him.' I reply. 'And stop calling him Kid, it's not funny.'

'You _are_ Kids.' He responds, biting back his unshaven smile.

'I don't care. It's gross.'

Considering he is both an older brother and a taller one, there's something genuinely ego boosting how he lowers his gaze when apologising to Carlisle. And I love the fact that he doesn't forgive him too easily. Carlisle's reserved and makes him earn the forgiveness the way someone should.

'I haven't slept in four days.' He excuses, brushing the thought away.

'I know how you feel.' My Saint responds and he excuses himself to make the drinks he tried to make earlier.

Rich is much better behaved the second time round. I don't know if that's because he really is sorry or he's embarrassed but he goes above and beyond trying to keep me updated on everyone back home and welcoming Carlisle into the conversation. Edward's right, too. He even buys dinner.

'You're a sweet little home giver.' He mutters when I'm making up my bed for him to sleep in. He's spent a while talking about Carlisle's latest surgery and blushing hard when his quick insults from earlier have shown him up in every department.

'Is that an insult?' I ask, unamused.

'You really know how to look after people.'

'I've had practice, Richard.'

'I am really proud of you, Sis.' He says, folding his arms over his chest. 'You know that, right?'

'I'm proud of you, too.' I say. 'Now be careful when you sleep on the right side, the bedside table is closer than you think.'

'Esme?'

'What?' I say half chuckling. 'Dude, go to sleep. We're tired.'

'I haven't seen you. Why are you so quick to leave?'

'You need to sleep. I need sleep. I feel like a troll.'

He snorts. 'You look like one, too.'

'Ha.' I mutter before kissing his cheek. 'Sleep well-'

'Esme?'

'What?!' I whine, stamping my feet a little like I'm a four year old. He laughs loudly and shakes his head.

'Do you love him?'

'Goodnight, Richard!'

That's how I slam the door. On his roll of laughter. Carlisle is sat up in bed waiting for me. He's got his knees up, a blanket draping over his waist as he reads from a book, his eyes closing slightly.

'Are you okay?' He murmurs, kissing me perfectly on the lips, holding me close and combing through the side of my hair.

'Tired.' I murmur.

'Same.'

'Thank you for being really patient today. I know he can an asshole.-'

'Not at all.' He says, shaking his head. 'It was lovely evening.'

'Eventually.' I mutter, curling into his open arms. 'If it's not one problem, it's a thousand, huh?'

'Yes.' He agrees, hauling me closer. 'Es… we should really discuss…'

'You're not leaving the country, Carlisle. End of.' I try to soften my anger by holding him closer but it only makes him pinch his eyes in that Masen manner that I hate. There's distaste on my tongue. My arms are uncomfortable. My back hurts. And so does my pride.

'If I slip away now then there's less fuss. You know how much worse the situation is going to be if we wait for me to get deported?'

'And where do you expect to go?'

'I'll think of somewhere.' He mutters. 'Don't look like that, we don't have a choice.'

'Stop saying that!' I reply, shrilly.

'Stop getting mad. I'll sort it.' He puts his lips to my forehead again and nuzzles my hair line. 'Have a bit of faith in me, please?'

* * *

Rather annoyingly, Richard doesn't wake me as promised. He slips out in the middle of the morning, leaving only a note written in his poor handwriting. Carlisle tries to soften my worries and to some extent it works. He doesn't have work till Wednesday and so we fill our time with each other. Devoted to ignoring the threat of a temporary loss.

It doesn't take long for my plan to come into place over night. The moment he said about leaving the country, I'd already decided against it. Convincing myself into the details was, and remains to be, the problem.

By Wednesday, I have it decided. I have to have it decided because I'm getting to the point where I can't be alone without freaking out. I know exactly what I'm going to do. I haven't uttered a word to Carlisle but I've gone far enough to second guess myself with everyone else. Surprisingly enough, it's Jasper who is the most helpful. It's Bella which tells me what I need to look out for. It's Rose who tells me to be careful and it's Emmett who reckons the idea is too far-fetched.

But they help. More than they know.

Wednesday is a good day for my Saint. He's thrown himself into work. So much so that he's happy to explain a new procedure he was able to witness that evening. We eat together, we make sweet passionate love, we shower together and we go to bed, arms around each other, and conversation barely above whispers.

Thursday is the day.

He wakes up after me, arms curled around my waist when the alarm goes off. I can feel how awake he is this morning and I back myself into it.

'Morning.' He murmurs, smile on my ear.

Courage works and while we're still naked, I make sure to wrap my right leg back around his so that he's pressed close to me. The gasp from his lips is luscious.

'Es…'

But I reach beneath my legs and let his tip gather the moisture around me. He gasps again and it makes me wetter, the heat dissolving my skin when he shifts his hips up.

'Urgh fuck.'

'This early in the morning?' He snickers, groaning when I slide further to him.

It's so easy to lose myself to the moment. To feel him pulse inside me and let his cock have me shuddering.

He shifts his hips again and we both moan louder.

'Carlisle, I don't want to wait…'

'What you mean is, you don't want to earn it.' He crows in my ear, sliding in and out of me a hand guiding my hip. 'You don't want to earn the right to come…'

'Urgh, please.'

'Please what? What is it you want?' He whispers, hands roaming along my hip, up along my chest, feeling my boobs, pinching my sore nipples.

'Make me cum.'

'Babe, it hasn't been three minutes. Are you sure you want this to be over, this quickly?' He's playing around, making me wait because I hate being patient when I don't need to be.

'No?' I guess, biting my lip.

He slides out, makes me whine, sucks on my neck and flips me onto my back, hands roaming my thighs.

'Is this how you want me to make you cum?'

'Carlisle!' I groan, half laughing when he gives me that sexy as hell smirk. His hair is dishevelled, his face wrought with stubble and his eyebrows flirting.

'Is that a yes?'

'Of course it is.' I demand, pulling his face to mine and moving my tongue in the rhythm I need him to move.

He gets the hint. He shifts his hands under my ass, squeezes my skin so that I gasp and uses his hips to spread my legs wider. He's watching me watch his erection press against his sore stomach. He's watching me lift my hips for him. How my tongue salivates against his.

Smirking, he slides in two fingers cheering on my curses when I grip his hair.

'Feels good huh?'

'Please.' I call, especially when his thumb slides against my clit and I tense around his hand.

'More?' He asks.

'Babe, please.'

He laughs, shifts his legs to me, rubs his member against my slit so that I beg for him and then slides very carefully into me, hands on either side of my hips to give him some balance. My stomach knots inside itself, every time he thrusts into me, I can feel the intensity of my body tense, the high building, the wave coming up over me.

'You wanna cum?'

'I want you to _make_ me cum, Carlisle.'

'Now?' He asks.

'Don't want to make you late for work…' I pant, body rocking when he thrusts his hard cock into me. 'Keep going.'

He snogs the desperation off my lips, kisses me thoughtfully, moving only in a way that will make me come.

His hands hold me everywhere, his kisses driving me wild, my legs open, my body shaking and when I reach my peak, I come around him so hard that he follows with an orgasm straight after, spilling into me and collapsing forward as we pant together.

It's a wonder he isn't late for work considering how long we lay there. We lay there so long that Edward has a go at us for waking him up.

I hate this bit. I hate watching him get ready without me and I hate when Carlisle has to leave but I adore the grin on his lips, the shy blush, proudly displayed on his person.

'Have a great day.' He tells me, kissing me with his minty breath, coffee in one hand, briefcase in the other, toast balancing in his grip.

'You too love.' I say, smoothing back his hair. He gives me the sloppy grin again, looking away, shyly. He's just closing the door when he steps back in and smiles, combing his hair back.

'I love you, Esme.'

It's that kind of sentence that never leaves me prepared.


	52. Reasons why suffering is uncommunicative

_**There's a lot of explanation that is required of me.**_

 _ **Firstly, I cannot apologise enough for the delay. Not only have I been completely inundated with an excessive lot of work, I have also moved countries, suffered ten tonnes of internet trouble and last week, my trusty laptop committed suicide without leaving one note. Meaning all those thousands of words... gone. RIP.**_

 _ **I apologise wholeheartedly for my complete and utter lack of disorganization but in response, please do not fret. Though the next few chapters might take a little longer than normal, I will keep people updated if I end to put this story on permanent hiatus (which I highly doubt considering I've had it focused for a good few years!). Please stick with it, and with me, this is only the middle of all that has been achieved and though there is an end in sight, I would dream it's a little way off yet.**_

 _ **The fault of this chapter shouldn't also go solely to the laptop, however. Consider this an official warning for a very long chapter, and some dark themes, as ever. Though the chapters are not as regular, I am always available for contact so if you wish to speak with me to discuss anything you have read. I will appreciate any and all responses in whatever form you wish to voice them. Be it review, which though amazing, isn't necessary, or a PM, which I will be happy to reply to just as quickly.**_

 _ **Thank you for your thoughtful concerns, again, I repeat, this is a long chapter even longer than normal and as ever, I will be impatiently awaiting your response just as you will be impatiently awaiting an update.**_

 _ **Which will come.**_

 _ **Thank you continuously for your patience, your thoughts, your interests and your dedication. My gratitude knows no bounds.**_

* * *

 _Edward_

There seems to be urgency in her features, worn by the delay of sleep and stress, painted under her heavy eyelids like an abstract painting. She waits a few more moments, hesitates and begins with a tone conveying serious doubt.

'I know what you're going to say,' she murmurs, rubbing the cuffs of her jumper and breathing deeply as though picking up both scents of the washing powder and coffee. _That_ washing powder. The washing power that makes my skin crawl and turns my backside into a cavern for the undiluted grains of aromatic chemicals. She revelled in that powder like a child to sugar. But with more gratitude and less desperation to consume every available scent.

I take another look at her and conclude that perhaps my metaphor was right. She'd inhale the stuff if I wasn't invading their space.

'Clearly you don't.' I correct, adding a bored shrug to try and ease the very sentence I've been dreading since the moment she demanded to speak with me.

It was polite of her to wait the courtesy five minutes of Carlisle leaving for work when she thwacked her impatient knuckles on my door, flushed with colour and very much unconscious to her lack of attire. She wasn't just consumed by the washing powder. She was consumed by him. It was gross.

'I do.' She contends. 'You're going to say I'm stupid.'

'You've just proved me right.' I say with a smug acknowledgement of her impatience. For starters, I was going to employ the very swear words she seemed to be neglecting this morning. This thought does little to ease the tension. She doesn't come up with another way to force an elaboration from my lips so I'm left to do my own work. 'I don't think you're stupid, Esme.'

'Everyone else does.'

'No one else knows you.'

She frowns, staring at her clutched hands because she's taken on a whole new persona today and while it was uncomfortable at first… it is strangely becoming of her. Like her excessive confidence is just a veil to this shy sense of indecision. It was the very opposite of Carlisle. He seemed to have a way of construing this awkward, naïve persona when in fact he'd become very much secured with himself. They were playing at opposite roles when their real ones were just as opposing as these imposters. They certainly had fewer complications, too.

'I know you're not stupid but I also know you're impulsive.' I hear myself warn, playing at that tone which suits neither of our manners.

'I am not!' She answers quickly and we suddenly both resemble our usual sibling nature. Except that she is the youngster in this moment.

'Whatever it is that you think you've got to do-'

'We can't just _wait_ , Edward!' The tone of her voice has become sharper but not in an angry way. In a passionately desperate way.

'It'll work out.' I claim, emptily. Her grunt is not unlike a bull, dismissive and full of hot air. Annoyingly, I find my eyes rolling and though I know every person surrounding me would criticise my intentions, I go ahead and follow them. 'I know you're right…' I start to say, opening my mouth to no larger than a quarter-sized gap.

' _See_!'

'But,' the emphasis I have to pour on this word is ignored with a flicker of her lashes, 'whatever you're thinking of doing… it's not wise.'

'I don't even know what I'm going to do yet.' She mutters again, hiding behind her curtains as though for once, she can't bear to let her features shine through.

I miss the times when getting her laid meant barrels of eased tension and ridicule. Since employing my best friend as her new chosen coitus companion, an unexpected amount of melancholy seems to invade her every look. Or that's how it looks when we're alone. I don't even want to think about the look she offers in just his presence. Yuck.

'You're decided and that's dangerous enough,' I reply.

'I'm not _decided_ …'

Why must she be so pedantic?

'Es, why did you ask for my advice if you're not going to tell me what you're up to?'

There it is. Alas, my own impatience beat hers.

'I need to know I'm doing the right thing.'

'You're not.' I tell her, earnestly. 'Whatever crazy plan you've got in mind; to bomb his church or contact CNN… It's not good to involve people in this madness. You're already on surveillance from some random creep. You can't even depend on your _own_ safety anymore; it's no use trying to act for the good of other people.'

'So I should watch him get deported-?'

'For like a month, at most…' I lie feebly.

'-I should accept that there's nothing I can do? I shouldn't even _try_?'

'You listened to my parents; they're doing everything they can.'

'It's not enough!' She snaps, hand slamming on the table so that coffee spills. She falls back into the chair dismally, bringing her knees up to her chest and covering her face with both hands. She's not crying… I _hope_ she's not crying…. Her exhaustion, the never-ending cycle of stress is eating up her fingertips, locking around the loose waves of her hair and pulling them tight.

Instinctively, I reach a hand over to untie hers from her face, relieving the needed rush of fresh oxygen. She's _not_ crying… but she looks like she could do so at any moment.

'I didn't mean-'

'I know.' I shrug. 'I know it's not enough… but Carlisle's right. No matter how much I want to protect him, I have to abide his wishes.' His damn right _stupid_ wishes. Again, she doesn't say anything. 'Think about it, Esme… you've been hurt a _lot_ in these three years. If any of that is connected to this person…'

My head is starting to hurt again. Not to the extent where I'm going to need a lie down, but enough that I have to pause for a moment to let the words force their way out of the hazy view.

'Not as much as him.'

'It's not a competition.' I dismiss, irritably.

'It doesn't have to be.' She defends. 'I'm giving you simple facts. If he goes back he's going to suffer for it. Even just being in those surroundings-'

'Surroundings that you face every day you go into that damn coffee shop?!'

'I thought you said it wasn't a competition?'

'It's not!' I groan. 'But that wasn't a denial, either. So for fuck sake, stay away from it.'

'I have to do _something_!'

'You're going to get hurt! And if you won't listen to that, if you're not conceiving the _depth_ of harm you are risking, then at least consider how you're going to hurt us all in the process. Especially Carlisle!'

My temper is eating me up now. The absence that I thought would stay with me until his return, from whenever a deployment would take place, is immediately replaced with this bitterly cold feeling. Just the image of her storming into the café, guns metaphorically blazing, is enough for the cascade of shivers to slip down my spine and burn up my numbed chest.

'There you are then.' She says, quieter. 'You _do_ think I'm stupid.'

'I don't think you're stupid, Esme. I think you're _being_ stupid; two different things.'

'Well, let this be my flaw? Give me this, a free-pass, and the moment you're correct, you'll never have to deal with me again.'

'Now you're being _really_ stupid.' I say, mopping up the puddled drink with a soiled cloth. Oddly, she hasn't seemed to notice. She's very much consumed in her plan and it's setting my teeth on edge.

'It's all I'm asking for?' She pleads and though again the sound is not soft, the words are and I find myself looking into her very tired expression, her bitten lip and her nervy posture and sighing. 'Forgive me in advance?'

'It's not me you want forgiveness from.'

'It's _also_ you.' She murmurs. As though this will flatter me enough to suddenly start cheering for her side.

'You don't know what you're asking-'

'I'm asking you to drop the sexist shite.' At that comment, my jaw falls comically open. 'Stop think of poor little fragile Esme-'

'I'm not thinking that because of your chromosomes?!' I yell, my manly gruff raising several octaves. 'I'm thinking that because you have been hurt and furthermore… it is concrete _fact_ that _you_ are being _watched_!'

'I can fend for myself-'

'Clearly not when your own _mother_ can slap you!' Now it's her turn to look just as astounded. 'Oh yeah, I haven't forgotten about that. So stop making out like you're so tough when I see you exactly for what you are-'

'It's completely different with family and you know it! You have no right to use it against me!'

'I'm not using it against you, Es. I'm trying to show you sense. What if you get hurt by someone you love?! Godforbid, what if it _is_ Alice spying on you? You know as well as I do she's been more than critical of your relationship!'

My mouth is currently in the modes of constant chatter. I'm offering up complete nonsense in desperation for her to take a moment and it's more than ridiculous of me to be using this as my argument. Make her wary of her own security network; genius, Edward.

'It's not Alice.' She says. The conviction and the certainty of her belief allows me to breathe a little. She takes her time, forming each word with such gentleness that it's like I'm being lulled into a sense of security. 'Edward, I need you to listen to what I'm saying.'

I groan even louder and let my head come to the table top.

'Stop thinking of me?' She begs, softly, pulling onto any and all heartstrings and making me suffer eternally. 'Think of _him_.'

'I _am_ thinking of him.' I repeat through gritted teeth. 'I am thinking of every shade of black and blue my skin will take by him if you get harmed. I'm thinking of his never-ending misery in day-to-day life, I am thinking of how he will hold me responsible, how he won't forgive _me_ and I am thinking of how I will _never_ forgive myself.'

My enthusiasm encourages her disapproval.

'I'm hardly going to get killed. I'll take a knife with me?' The look on her face is blank and I'm so bemused that I can't tell if she's joking. Until she shakes her head at me.

'Don't look like that, if it keeps you _safe_ -'

'Oh for fuck sake Edward, I'm trying to keep _him_ safe. Not in the sense of ' _he's coping, he's fine'_ , but considering the trauma he will suffer the very moment he is within the same walls as _them_.'

Despite myself, I shudder. It's not a topic I have discussed or even acknowledged to Carlisle. It's not something I'm going to profess to guessing or supposing. If even my father couldn't get certain truths from his vow-of-silence, my own attempts would have been less futile. Not that it was ever something I wanted time to digest.

So though I am thankful he has found someone to relieve these anxieties too… I am beyond disgusted that it has to be _her_. Because by telling _her_ , he's in this constant paradox of suffering. She dealt with pain through love (usually the wrong kinds but love nonetheless) … taking this on from him will cause both the world of harm.

Is this normal? To be so in love with someone you'd sooner offer what could be your safety for your beloved's happiness? Or not even happiness. That was the worst of it. She wasn't doing this knowing she would keep him happy or safe. She was doing it for the _chance_ of seeing him happy or safe. It was all based on suppositions and temporality. She is risking pain in _hopes_ she could buy them time.

Worse, I am about to let her.

'What do you need from me?' I ask, avoiding all desperation to be bitter and instead striving for neutrality.

'I need you to keep your phone on you. Be prepared to jump in the car and pick me up-'

'Can't I just come with you instead?' I say, scrubbing at my eyes not for tiredness but for a long road of fatigue. She doesn't reply, just shakes her head. 'Come on, Esme. Don't be ridiculous, it's the only way I know you're going to be safe.'

'I want you to go find Tilly.' She continues, looking under her lashes as though waiting for my imminent disapproval. She knows me well.

'What?! _Why_?!'

'Think about it Edward? Who else would it be?' She looks through me as she says it, as though she's repeating rehearsed lines.

'Anyone.' I answer, rudely. She rolls her eyes.

'She's known me for ages, she knows you all, she's been throwing accusations at us for weeks… it can't be anyone else-'

'Except-'

'It's _not_ Alice!'

'I was actually going to blame Emmet that time; you know how thoughtless he can be.'

It's fair to say that my joke isn't well received.

'It's not _any_ of our friends. There were things they couldn't even witness. Like Carlisle's bedroom window. Who else would know a clock broke the glass excusing the perpetrator herself?'

I hesitate again, making that groaning sound when I know she's, for once, speaking reasonably when I wish she wasn't. Her reason is so sure of itself…so matter of fact… I finish the statement with a nod. I don't want to encourage her.

'You just need to keep her occupied. Make sure she's not on my tail.'

I'm sickened by how my stomach is a combination of heavy stone, weighing me down in guilt, and soft caresses of moth wings. The relief that the end of the task will bring… I'm excited for it.

'Fine but the moment I know she's occupied, I'm coming to the Coffee shop.'

'Fine.' She agrees, blankly.

'Now tell me what you're planning?' I demand, not bothering to be gentle with her.

There's a sudden rush of adrenaline in my blood. Hungry for the release; for the final success of our luck to turn out considering that she has actually prepared for the avenue of danger. It feels very much like a movie. Like she suddenly knocked on my front door and asked if I wanted to play cops and robbers. I do.

She shakes her head as if concealing a fun little secret.

'Es.'

'It's fine, I've got it sorted.'

I don't know if I believe her but she seems to believe herself which is all that we need right now.

'Just be safe?' I implore her and I'm relieved to see the slight movement of her nodding head.

It doesn't take very long for her to explain where Tilly will be. Frustratingly enough, I was delusional in hoping Tilly might have ended up working after all, just so I could be sure that whatever stupid plan she had worked out, I'd be there to see the start and the end of it.

That's not how it works out.

First of all, Esme is ridiculously adamant that I should attend my lessons and though I complain about this, she's right in accusing me of missing too many lessons recently.

Soon, it becomes crystal clear that this isn't a sporadic plan, though I presume my involvement might be. She is aware of everything she needs me to do and though I'm blinded by the darkness of confusion, she doesn't explain any more than she has to.

'So what time will you be at the Shop?' I ask, scratching the start of my nose to keep from fiddling on the table.

'I'll message you when I'm there.' She answers quickly, dismissing me like she's slapping dirt from my palms.

'And what about Tilly? Can you guarantee she'll be heading into town?'

'Of course not Edward, I'm supposing. I just need you to make sure you know where she is, that's all.'

I allow myself to smile a little and shake the thought away. 'So what will you do until then? Should I go grab Carlisle's pocket knife? I know where he keeps it?' It's not an empty offer but it's a foolish one and again, she doesn't appreciate the ill-timed humour.

'I was meant to be babysitting but I'm just going to explain I'm running behind in classes. I know Sarah won't mind. Then just wait for you, I guess…' She shrugs and touches the veins on her left hand. 'I do have a few errands to run… a few people to phone so maybe I'll do that.'

'Good plan.' I agree, a little too excitedly. The enthusiasm has eaten me up. She's won me over and the confrontation of taking just one of these bastards down is making my hands itch. My imagination is flying from me in speed and all I can imagine is a Terminator show down in that stupid little shop. An overflow of violence from my talented hands into the obese blob of skin that is her boss.

I am salivating at the sweet scent of revenge.

'And one last thing?' She says as I'm getting up from my seat and practicing each step as though testing how much force could be secured behind it.

'Hmm?'

'You would forgive me, right?' She asks, delicate again as she shies away from the sharp return of my look.

'I would never have a reason not to.' I promise.

She smiles once and it doesn't occur to me until that evening how broken a smile can look.

* * *

 _Esme_

The guilt is much stronger than I had expected it to be as I watch Edward reverse somewhat eagerly out of the drive. He's got a dark glint in his eye, the type when he's making offensive jokes with Emmett, or discussing a topic he knows will get Carlisle riled up. This glint is worse though. It doesn't have its charming innocence twisted into it. It's delusional, but it's also scarily violent. I'm to blame for that.

It doesn't do good to watch him leave so while I'm on hold with the university, having sent an email with no reply early Monday, I trace the newspaper with a delicate hand. I'd been meaning to trash it, at one point I nearly had, hovering it over the wicker basket in the corner of the room but Carlisle had made me jump and asked what I was doing.

'Recycling.' I'd murmured.

'If you keep it, you might have a claim for slander.' He contended, shrugging as though he hadn't minded the outcome. I'd seen his bruised hand twitch though, his eye follow exactly what bin I'd been about to throw it into.

It doesn't do any good to invite a line of deception, so I'd thrown it to the table instead.

'I won't be doing that.'

He hadn't furthered the matter. That was Tuesday. That was when he suggested a movie. He'd taken back the suggestion immediately on account of our follower but the comment only motivated me. I wasn't going to be sectioned to a house. So the cinema it was. A movie that he was struggling to pay attention to once I'd slipped my hand on his crotch. He begged me not to do anything that would only endanger our reputation. His eyebrows met the middle sweetly and he closed his eyes while biting down on his sore lip.

So I stopped and he kissed me distantly instead.

It sounds like a joke but these three days had barely started before they began. I couldn't keep my hands off him, for more than just the hormone reason, but things were a prohibition. He would stand very close to me when opening the car door. He'd shut all the blinds and the curtains before returning my kisses. At night, I'd wake to find him locking the window, or checking to make sure Edward was alright and three times he'd either lost an erection or prematurely spilt his load on account of rushing.

He'd smile awkwardly, blush to high heaven and fail to utter a word as he tried to excuse himself.

'It _is_ normal.' I reminded us both. He didn't believe me.

I couldn't believe myself either. I wasn't saying it because it _was_ normal and I wasn't saying it because sex is new to him. He'd sleep with me either in his arms, tensed like an iron cage or he'd move away from me completely like he couldn't bear to touch me.

And the _words_.

Every word of his that almost exemplified the very passion of his emotions. They got heavier.

Every time he spoke, it felt like a goodbye. Made worse when he promised he loved me. It was an apology.

My finger traces two different words on the page. King Arthur. It makes me shudder, my stomach flipping more when I think about the suggestion. He _was_ brave, pried on from a young age, acted for the good of his community and never once backed away from his responsibilities. Even as I read the words, he's busy working in a hospital he has no need to work in anymore.

Not if he ends up being deported in the next few days.

After being on hold for thirty minutes, I finally hear a voice.

' _You're speaking with the departments of scholarship and bursaries, how may I help?_ '

'Hi,' I repeat, swallowing the growing bitterness at the answer I've already been preparing for the last few days. 'It's Esme Platt speaking; I've been in touch with your colleagues-'

' _Oh_.'

'Oh?' I ask, stopping mid-explanation and waiting. There's murmuring in the background, whispers and harsh tones as though I can't hear them.

' _Yes Miss Platt, I was made aware of your situation-_ '

'Good, I just want to know how things will be affected what with my final piece-'

' _Has no one yet been in contact with you_?' The male asks, lowly.

'Well no.' I murmur, rubbing my forehead. 'The incident only occurred Saturday evening, you see and I've been trying to get in touch with your people-'

' _I'm sorry Miss, I can't say anymore on the matter. Someone will be in contact with you in the next few-_ '

'It's not enough!' I interrupt, just as I hear the closing statements. 'No offence to you, Sir, but it is not _enough_. I have been waiting for five days. I have been in contact with six different members of staff and no one will give me a straight answer!'

' _It is unfortunately for the board to decide-_ '

'The board made their decision when I was informed of the news last week. I just want to know what will be affected and how I can fix it-'

' _Really, Miss Platt, I apologise but I can't help you_ -'

'Then find me someone who can!' I beg. 'I can't keep waiting, I need to know-'.

The man is getting just as flustered as I am and though he keeps trying to dismiss me, I keep fighting it. ' _Someone will phone you-'_

'Someone _is_ phoning me. _You're_ phoning me. Please just give me something-'

' _I can't help-'_

'Please?!' I repeat, kicking the table in another moment of fury. I stand up and audibly inhale so he knows to wait. 'Sir, please. I can't keep phoning every day, hoping you'll answer me. I just need to know-'

' _Miss Platt… I…_ ' He sighs too, regret seeping into his tone. ' _If the piece wasn't insured when it was taken out of the site_ -'

'But _I_ didn't take it out of the site, _your_ people did-'

' _If you gave your permission-…_ ' he mumbles, ashamedly. ' _There's nothing..._ '

'But what do you mean there's nothing?!'

I'm surprised I'm not more devastated. The only reply I have to that is that I knew the answer. I've always known the answer. I've known the answer from the moment I watched my creation torn in front of my eyes.

' _I'm sorry but without the official letter of registration-_ '

'I was told it would be sent soon-'

' _But the problem is, Miss Platt…with no final piece…_ '

It's taken a very long time. But here it is. The bottom line. I was naïve to think it wouldn't hurt.

'What if I create another one?' I ask, pointlessly, voice like a child.

' _I'm sorry, really very sorry… but there's always next year?_ '

To that, I just hang up.

The dial tone rings in my ears even after I've dismantled the phone. I don't treat it in the same manner as Carlisle did but I do rather calmly find a small glass box of screwdrivers and take apart all pieces of the phone so it's left in compartments on the floor.

I value the silence more than I thought I would.

Jasper always mentions things about material objects. He's always complaining we're too reliable on them. That was the same advice he mumbled to me on Wednesday. He was reserved about it. He knew I was planning something and after receiving the lowdown from Alice, which I wish she would do a lot more secretively, he reminded me that it's no good having the material objects to hand.

'Everything you own is like a map to your life.'

'Is this why you don't drive?' I'd murmured.

'It's why you shouldn't.'

He's promised not to say anything to Alice but he also swore he wouldn't lie to her. Which I think is why he never asked what I was doing. He didn't want to help but he hadn't been exactly pleased about Carlisle's slander either.

Alice didn't like it when he was violent. So he did his best to respect that.

Rosalie had been a pain. I hadn't had to _lie_ ; I just had to keep shaking my head. It didn't stop her from asking but it stopped me from telling. She'd thrown her arms around me the moment she saw me and then we both stiffened and turned away from each other. 'Revenge isn't always the answer.'

I hadn't replied.

'Trust me, _I_ know.'

A half smile was used to prove that I valued her honesty but it was as about as hollow as Emmett's head- _oh_. I guess it's not fair to make that joke anymore…

'Just be careful?'

It's not revenge I'm after. But trying to explain that to Emmett was just as fruitless.

'What you planning to do? Storm in there? Demand for him to stop following you? Threaten to call the police?'

He'd been lifting a dumbbell at the same time. Not because he was showing off and not because that's how I always imagine him when I picture Emmett. I think he was trying to make things seem normal. Like bulking up is and would always be his natural way.

He'd been lifting more since he found out we had an anonymous follower.

That's how they were all coping. They didn't say any more than they had to but they made preparations. They'd wanted to have a takeaway every night this week and it was left for Edward to remind them that normality is comforting.

They didn't know the meaning of _back_ _off_.

Alice had comically just happened to offer to meet Carlisle for lunch and Jasper had wanted to take Edward on a random hunting-bonding session Friday after work. 'We could all go?' Edward had murmured. It'd only taken for Carlisle to raise his eyebrow for the suggestion to be buried.

Bella surprised me.

Edward had been reluctant to be honest with her. He'd been reluctant to say anything though it became immediately necessarily with how overbearing our friends were becoming. He'd asked Carlisle's advice on Monday when I was busy but Carlisle hadn't given him the answer he wanted.

So his only response was to attempt to avoid her. He was bad at that, too.

She happened to be the last person I met up with on Wednesday. It wasn't intentional, I'd been hesitating with going to class and found myself on their driveway instead, unable to tear my eyes from Charlie Swan's cruiser.

I wouldn't move until knowing he wasn't home.

'He wants to tell you everything.' I blurted the moment she pushed a coffee under my nose.

'He has a funny way of showing it.' She replied, not unkindly but quickly. The books on her table were dog eared and old looking and she was using them to find her bravery.

'It's not his fault, Bella. He's just…' _In love_ Carlisle would defend. 'Panicking.'

'You seem to do that a lot.' She replied, casting her eyes low and suddenly widening them, too. 'No offence, of course.'

'Who does?'

'You three.'

'Three?' I'd repeated, frowning.

'It's like a really complicated Venn Diagram where you all panic over one another and none of you discuss it properly-'

'That's not fair.' I said, wrinkling my nose. She blushed then, combing her hair away but staring only at the table top like she was worried about facing me.

'You're both worried about Carlisle. Carlisle and you are worried about him and both boys are worried about you.'

'So then he _did_ tell you what his parents said?'

She nodded her head, biting the inside of her lip and looking behind my head to find the words. For once, I just wanted her to look me stone dead in the eye and let _me_ shy away. I'd been playing that role good enough since Sunday. I felt like an expert in it.

'When he stayed the night on Saturday…'

'I remember.' I'd tried to smile but took it back on account of her neutral stare. Perhaps she thought I was being rude. I hadn't intended to be. I didn't want to know about their sex life.

'You can't tell him I told you?'

'Of course not…' I said, warily, dragging the coffee closer as if it might sober me up. I'd been drinking a lot of coffee recently. It was starting to make my head ache.

'He'd climbed through my bedroom window, took one look at me and sobbed.'

'He … _sobbed_?!'

I'd never known Edward to sob. Either of the boys. They weren't ones who did that kind of thing. When under any negative emotion it took some serious coaxing to get the understanding of it. Trying to communicate could be difficult if they weren't up for it.

'I don't know what he was like at home, Esme… but that whole party really freaked him out.'

'Why didn't he say anything?' I'd complained. To both my own ears and hers.

'What is he meant to say? He's… worried for you.'

'He shouldn't be. We're handling it-'

'He's not stupid; he knows when you're dismissing him.'

'It's not intentional…' I fought, my brows lowering.

'I never said it was.' She had smiled, awkwardly before turning away from me to look at the ugly kitchen cupboards. 'I don't know what you're planning-'

'Why does everyone assume I've got some stupid revenge path in mind?!' I moaned, brushing my fringe away and staring at her. She didn't shy from my look this time, but she didn't like it either.

'If I thought I'd get away with it, I'd steal you a gun from Dad's store room downstairs.'

'Bella.' I groan. 'Gun control, please.'

'Exactly. But I still think it's better to be safe than sorry.'

Tugging the draw open, she'd put her hand in, rifled around a bit before her frown cleared. Shaking the can, she chucked it my way and nodded. A can of Maize. What is with this woman?

'The sentiment is sweet but I really-'

'Either you take that or I phone Carlisle immediately and let him know exactly what you're planning.'

'Bella!' I gasped. 'You don't even _know_ what I'm planning!'

She shrugged, shyly, trying to fight the blush. 'Edward's right, you need to be wary. Who knows who could be giving you away?'

'For fuck sake, it's _not_ Alice. She couldn't keep a secret if she tried!'

She hadn't responded for a moment.

'I know it's not Alice.' She replied, looking half confused at me. 'First of all, she hasn't known you for that long. I don't know anyone who has.'

'Point being?' I'd asked, not sounding nearly as rude as I remember feeling.

'Point being that you should know who you can trust. You don't know who's watching Carlisle and whose watching you. But I'm sure it'll be a mutual acquaintance rather than _your_ best friend.'

She'd finished that sentence by dropping her glass onto the floor. Like that the illusion was shattered and we were back to our uncomfortable roles in friendship.

* * *

'I really do hate to be a pain, Mrs Walderman.' I promise, tugging a lose strand of my hair back to its ponytail and stroking my arm from the cold. The smile she returns is reserved. I've caused an inconvenience for them and I hate it but I can't put it off any longer.

The moment it's done, the better.

'You can't just stay for the hour?' She begs, lifting my chin up to look her in the eye in a very parental manner. 'I'll pay you double?'

'I'm really sorry-'

'At least stay for a drink at least?' She insists. 'Look at you Hon, you're positively beat. Tell me what the matter is.'

'It's nothing.' I murmur. 'It's just class.'

'It's not _just_ class.'

She half drags me into the kitchen and doesn't hesitate to drop her youngest into my arms. He's looking a lot better than when I last saw him. In fact he wants to show off and play, tugging on the straps of my shirt until I pay attention to him. After speaking with my brother, there's an unconscious need to just hold the kid tighter. To hold onto the perfect idolisation he has envisioned behind those wide, daylight eyes…

'Tell me what it is?' She insists, pushing a glass towards me.

She's staring at me, waiting impatiently for my response and because I can't summon the words, I take a swig of the cool copper glass instead. And nearly choke up my lungs. It's stronger, far too strong for this early in the morning.

'Long Island Ice tea.' She explains when I continue to cough. I wasn't expecting it- it went down the wrong hole.

'Bit early, isn't it?' I say once I've caught my breath. Her lipstick smile splits in two and she shrugs idly.

'Never too early for a cocktail, is it?'

'I don't know…' I start to say but I laugh a little when she insists I finish it. 'I really shouldn't, I've got so much work to do.'

'Oh Esme, love. Take a break.' I've been taking a break all week. 'Besides, that's only the _first_ one I made, wait till you try my _Atlantic Sunrise_.'

'What's the occasion?' I ask instead, sipping the top and holding in the desperation to splutter.

'No occasion.' She replies with a shrug. 'Mark likes them though so I thought I'd treat him. You're my guinea pig.'

'Thanks.' I reply, shaking my head slightly. She pushes the glass towards me, watches me hesitate and giggles.

'At least just that glass?!'

'I really shouldn't, Sarah. I have class tomorrow…' I have class today, I have plans today, this isn't good. So much for not drinking…

'You only live across the road.' She reminds me. 'Oooh! That reminds me! I have some clothes that don't fit me-'

'I really should be going…' I fight pathetically but with a roll of her eyes she's dragging me upstairs.

'You at least have to try them on, brand new; I foolishly brought the wrong size.' She drags me into her bedroom, calls on Serena to entertain Johnathan and shuts the door like she might just wish to barricade me into it.

'I feel so bad leaving you when you're busy…' I repeat, in an effort to re-announce my intention to leave but she shushes my concerns and repeats something about it not being a bother. She's hassling around in the wardrobe and orders me to sit on the bed.

'So what's been on your mind, Hun?'

'Huh?' I say absently.

My shoes have caught on a wad of money on the floor and feeling rather awkward about it, I quickly pile it up and put it on the bedside table. It must have fallen out of a pant pocket. The stock market must _really_ be doing well. There's a handwritten letter hanging out of the psychology book on the side on the table when I place the money down and for a fraction of a second, I'm sure I read- oh how ridiculous. I'm becoming paranoid.

'Esme?'

'Hmm?' I repeat, shaking my head when I find her waiting impatiently for my response.

'What's got you concerned?'

'Oh… oh it's just… it's just this damn scholarship… I…I thought I had it.' The rage that I want to burst into hasn't been present for the last few weeks. Maybe I haven't been either. Maybe this is all just a warped dream.

She hums to prove she's listening and throws a few clothes by my side. They're mainly summer dresses which look especially tight from here so I just sit idly on my drink and try not to choke on the alcohol content. Really I should be trying to keep a clear head…. But I need the courage.

'Just the scholarship?' She probes.

I sigh, quietly and shake my head.

'We saw the paper…' She murmurs, rubbing my shoulder like a genie in a lamp. Maybe she wants three wishes but I doubt I'll be able to grant them.

'I should've guessed.' I reply, miserable.

'So Carlisle _really_ lost his temper, huh?'

I'm too busy looking at the state of my knees to realise she's pulling me to my feet and throwing something my way. Try this; she's encouraging without using the words. I'm trying to say he didn't lose anything but it was probably the only part of the article which was fairly true.

'It was a bit of a blur to be honest…'

'Was he drinking?' She asks, hanging dresses over the top of me and instructing for me to get undressed.

I think she makes a joke about my choice of underwear; it's not the most flattering thing I own but who cares for flattering anymore? I can't even be bothered to tease the most gorgeous man I'd ever been with. I wanted him to fuck me quickly just so I wouldn't have the guilt of watching him fight to stay focused. The dress is a middle aged blue which is strange considering it's only on rare occasions she herself looks middle aged but I try and pull it onto my iron figure.

Moving robotically, I hang my heavy head in shame.

'How unlike Carlisle.' She says to herself, almost confused.

'He was just so… stressed. It was such a shit situation, Sarah. Honestly. We were itching to get out of there.'

'Oh bless you, dears. Here, try this dress.'

I don't have the energy to tell her it won't fit so I just pull it on…and surprise myself…. The slim waist is tugging me in further, the V shaped is elongating my cleavage and the fabric is clinging to my lack of hips. It's fair to say it's a dress I suddenly hate.

'So what are you going to do about it?' she asks, zipping me up from behind and turning her head at me like she's Alice.

'I don't know.'

'But you're going to do something?' She guesses, pulling tighter.

'I think I have to.' I explain with a solemn nod. 'We think he's keeping an eye on us.'

'Carlisle's father?' She asks, sharply.

'Yeah…'

'How absurd! Who's telling you such a thing?'

'Essentially Eustace…' I confess, shrugging slightly. She looks disapprovingly and turns her head away to point her disapproval somewhere else.

'You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Honey.'

I nod, not really knowing what else to say or do and feeling miserable about it. She's helped me out of a second dress and is trying to encourage me to try on another but I'm feeling even more miserable than I did and each new item is sucking even more air and weight from my ribcage.

'So what are you going to do?' She asks again, voice turning to that motherly concern.

'I…I think I'm going to speak to someone.'

'Someone? Like a lawyer?'

'Maybe. Just an expert on the matter.' Or maybe even a locksmith.

'Have you tried talking directly to Eustace?' She asks, again turning away every time I try and watch for her judgement. I shake my head.

'Carlisle doesn't think it's wise.'

'With all due respect to the poor love, he's probably not capable of having an unbiased response to it all at the moment.'

It's a sentence I never expected to hear from her. It's come out too quickly, the words are in a jumble before my eyes but she softens it with another sigh.

'He's been very hurt by them all…'

'I know.' I say. 'I can't risk hurting him anymore but by not doing anything-…'

The sentence stays weightless in mid-air for a while longer, and she watches it go with a stare like the look I've seen in her kid's faces.

'Love is a complicated thing.' She murmurs, shyly and I feel a blush rise to my cheeks. Typical how furiously I demanded Carlisle's secrecy and how easily I betrayed my own wishes. 'Oh my love, it couldn't have been more _obvious_ if you walked in here with him wrapped around your waist. Mark has been putting money on it for months.'

'I never meant for it to happen…' I defend, gasping when she relieves the pressure of the dress. 'It was an accident.'

'The two of you?'

'I…' I don't respond, I blush. 'Sarah, I really do appreciate your advice… but I think I need to go and sort some things.'

The dress, the voice, the stare… I feel sick. I can't look at her anymore.

'What does it matter as long as he's _gentle_ with you?'

'Gentle?' I repeat, a frown tugging warningly on my brows. 'I never meant to imply he wasn't _gentle_?'

Were we discussing Carlisle here? There couldn't be a bigger definition to the term gentle than the man himself. He was in the encyclopaedia for it.

'Esme, Dear. The bruises speak for themselves.'

'Bruises?!' I repeat. After so many weeks, I'm still bruised?! Turning hastily, I try and catch a glimpse but she pinches the dress close to my skin, drawing an unexpected intake of breath from my lips.

'You're positively covered in them. Had you not of said….why, I could've very _easily_ misinterpreted…'

'He hasn't bruised me? That wasn't Carlisle!' I blurt, already feeling a new heat gather about my neck as I try to hastily undo the dress.

She shoves my hands from the zip, her talons catching on the bottom of my spine as she brings the fabric together to undo it. The snagging of the zip is like ripping fabric in my ears and I want so much to be out of there, I can already feel the sweat on my wrists bleed down my arms.

'I didn't mean to judge, Esme. It's hardly my business.'

'You're right.' I snap. 'It's _not_.'

'There's no need to get defensive, now, Hun. Whatever you enjoy in the privacy of your own home…' She trails off, again playing with that teasing tone of mother-knows-best. The alcohol is making my head spin and the moment I tug the dress free from my hips, is the moment the blood drops from my cheeks to my feet.

'I don't enjoy this!' I gasp and then I realise she's still staring at me. 'It's not what either of us chose to do!'

'Woah, Love, breathe,' She nods her head and looks away from my gasping like she, ironically, is unqualified to cope with it.

'I've got to go.'

'Oh Esme... I didn't _mean_ anything by it.' She insists rather dismissively, looking up as if to shrug.

'Still,' I mutter, pushing my fringe away because I need to see where I'm going.

I need to go. This is all it's ever going to be. It's going to always be a knife to Carlisle's throat at the extent of my pain. I pull the jeans on hastily, buttoning them so furiously that I don't notice how low they hand on my hips. I pull the T-shirt back on, I wrap a jacket around me three fold and snatch my bag up quickly.

'But where are you going, Esme? What can a _lawyer_ possibly do?'

'I- don't know.'

Keep walking. I can apologise later. They were a Christian family. That meant charity and forgiveness. That means _forgiveness_. I can always ask for forgiveness. Her brisk hand tugs on mine just as I pull the door open. Her eyes aren't like her children's. Old looking, they look like a painting, her mouth is almost too still when she smiles and her wrist is tugging onto me so tightly it feels like handcuffs.

'I'm sorry.' It's not sincere but it's all I can manage right now. Forgiveness is necessary. Forgiveness I can strive for.

'The law isn't always on your side… Sometimes… gut instinct is better' She hushes at me, holding onto me so tightly that it's not like those words are even falling from her tongue. That becomes the last time I speak to Sarah Walderman.

* * *

It's funny how the skills you learn manage to impact most decisions. I didn't drive. Jasper was right, I'd only just got my car back, I couldn't afford to have it give me away. The engine is still too loud. I didn't take the knife that Edward so ironically joked about. I didn't take a bag. I took a screwdriver.

It wasn't a skill my father taught me but Daniel, back when my mother used to lock herself in her room on her bad days. She'd learnt to lock the doors on the few times, she'd threatened some unspeakable things. Screwdrivers didn't just fix things or make things, they could unhinge things too.

I took a screwdriver. The maize was another matter. I brought it as far as the window. My eyes upon the gate, watching for security cameras… not a car in sight. There was a good chance if I stuck to my original plan, I could make it in just enough time to avoid being caught. Sarah already mentioned about the sermons. His endless sermons….

The house is just as beautiful from the back and managing to climb over a few broken slats of a gate, I come round to the back of the river, stopping at where Carlisle… The sweet smell of spring stings my nose and shivering, from nerves, I hide a little behind the very tree he stood by. The tree I dreamt he'd push me against… and I spit on it, stamping my foot far into the dirt so it leaves an imprint.

Insurance.

My heart beats so powerfully that it moves my feet ahead like a steady march. I keep pace with my pulse and though I skulk low, it's so quiet around that I know I couldn't possibly be disrupted. Besides… as I climb, he is preaching a few miles east to a local orphanage. Eustace was good at pleasing the media.

It's a painful daylight outside. At barely past midday, of course it's daylight but for a second round of ease, I test the door knob of the back door… it's locked. Good.

The garden lattice that we only put up the other night becomes a great aid. As does the many years of climbing experience. I retie my hair behind me, tighten my belt, drool a little on my hands…again for insurance, and hold my hands to the squares in front of me. The window is near the left so if I can keep going diagonally, I should be able to reach the room where Carlisle got changed.

The climb is quick. My nerves make me fast but that also make my thoughtless. I miss my footing six rows up and tighten my hands so fiercely on vines and wood that I graze my palms. Good, I lie. More insurance. On the ninth row, the maize falls from my grip, between the missing leaves and flowers and falls into an empty flower bed, shrouded by leaves. Six more rows to go.

By the top, I'm out of breath. Not because of the climb; that was easy. Not because it feels like poison ivy is stinging my blood stream. Because my heart cannot settle. It's making me dizzy and I sway so easily that I forget I'm holding all my weight up on one tiny ledge. I go to lift my foot onto it and push myself up. I can see my reflection. Haggard doesn't cover it. Pale and flushed, thin, bruised and bulky…

Luckily the window is ever so slightly open. Not enough for my fingernails but enough for the screwdriver and once I get a little bit of leverage, I can push it open a little more.

I hold myself up for just a second, tug off my soiled shoes and pull myself through nimbly. It's a steep drop outside though maybe safer compared to the state of the room. It's trashed from top to bottom. Broken glass from the mirror, the bedding ripped and spewing foam, the headboard broken, the walls smashed.

It's creepy and means I have to watch my footing.

The minutes I take waiting in the doorway are a deliberate indulgence. As much as I want to rush out of here and leave, or better yet set the place alight, the more mistakes I'm going to make. Dizzy is okay, carelessness is not.

Carrying my trainers by the shoelaces, I very carefully look beyond the top floor. Three rooms to choose from… Its twenty minutes past twelve. I have four hours, three before Edward gets worried and I want to leave in two. I can't afford Edward to become impatient though and deciding that, I head straight for the room where I last saw it.

The door is closed, how we left it. The room smells like Carlisle's expensive aftershave. By the side of the bed, fallen from the pillow is the head of a withering rose, the petals decaying and fraying inward. My hands reach out towards it but with a sharp reminder, I turn instead to the desk.

My phone. It's waiting for me so perfectly, resting where I'd absently thrown it. I turn it on quickly and find, much to my relief, though there are numerous amounts of missed calls, there aren't any recent ones from Edward. There's still twenty percent battery, too.

This might be far easier than I imagined. Task two then and hesitant, I push the phone into the depths of my pocket and cross carefully to the office, my heart beating furiously and my hands so violently shaking, they can barely raise the screwdriver.

* * *

 _Edward_

My eyes watch the clock impatiently. It felt utterly disrespectful to be hidden in the car. My stomach unsettled by the possible suggestion of a young man essentially stalking an over indulgent teenager… At least I'd found her. Esme was wrong. She was heading to town but that only made discovering her whereabouts insane. Much to my disapproval, she didn't go to the coffee shop. She made minor errands at a shop where she brought teen magazines and sweets.

The thought was ludicrous. Made entirely funny when she went to get her nails done. It wasn't yet three. I couldn't phone before three. She'd been reluctant to answer why. Just explained she'd had documents to deal with and left it at that.

My fingers play a quickening tune on the steering wheel. A quick run up the scale, a beat, a leap, a land, a pulse and doing it again till my heart copies the rhythm… Tilly has just left the hairdressers. I don't think she's changed any part of her appearance, simply booked an appointment but the task has become boring now. As guessed, I chose against lessons. I spent less than an hour in them before feigning illness and storming to the car.

The clock was mocking me. I needed it to be three.

The café is the next choice on the young girl's mind and though she meets a large stout looking man who looks familiar, I remind myself to cling onto patience.

The rhythm isn't helping. My shoulders are coiled, my elbow pulled into a restraint…

Carlisle phones me but I quickly decline it and push the cell out of sight. My eyes narrowing like a hunter to pray. What if I let the engine run and have her run over? Is that excessive? She did very _nearly_ kill the only answer to happiness I'd ever seen answer in my best friend's features.

If that child had so much as slipped, if she'd drunken a little more, if she'd been more sober even… perhaps we would be attending a funeral right now. Perhaps it wouldn't be glass we'd be pulling out of Esme's skull.

The suggestion hurls acid up my chest, and clawing my hand on the plastic of the wheel, I keep a close eye on the deep blue of my veins. I allow myself seven minutes. My hand finds the cell and ignoring Carlisle's somewhat freakish suggestion of giving into the demands of the many, I debate about phoning Es. Another message pops up.

 _If you're at home, ask Es? She won't answer the landline._

Sickening really. The stupid semicolon P he aligns next to it. The desperation to fake normality. It's 20 past two and because I can't hold it anymore, because I know Tilly is a preoccupied child I drive straight to the coffee shop.

It's bright out. Warm and sunny enough for sunglasses but not so busy as to look like summer. That ratty old car isn't in sight. She chose not to drive. Perhaps because she asked me meet me? It's quiet. No one is speaking. I can't see through the glass doors and that doesn't stop me. My coiled limbs stay poised because I can't bear to loosen the hold I have on them.

She should've been here by two. Twenty minutes is more than enough time to threaten someone with legal action. It's not enough time for her to be dragged from sight. Not for Esme at least.

On entering the shop, my blood runs cold.

'Edward?' asks one of the baristas, confused. I don't know the person's name, I don't think we've ever been introduced but I stop the instinct to grunt.

'Where's Esme?' I ask quickly, looking around and feeling a new temperature seep into my veins. It's neither hot nor cold but both, singing my skin all over as my eyes frantically move from one person to the next.

'Esme?' They ask, laughing.

'Is she out the back?!' I'm already heading towards it but they pull me back patronisingly and shake their laughter away.

'You can't go out _there_!' They say cheerily.

'Where is-?!'

'She hasn't been here for over a week. We thought she left!'

'What do you mean?! She's here, she's meant to be _here_!' One word melts into another, my hand gripping a counter so hard I can feel my fingers blending into the wood. 'Where is she?!' I snarl.

'We- we tried to phone but-'

The realisation is poison in my gut. Phone… _phone_ … She lost her cell.

'Where is King?!'

'Dude, you really need to chill.' But sensing my urgency, they no longer laugh. Pulling their black hair from sight, they just shake their head once more. 'King hasn't been here either. Last I heard he was doing business with-'

My thumb is already hanging on speed dial.

* * *

 _Esme_

Hours have poured through my fingers as fine as the cuts of paper. They slice my skin, weigh me down like a religious statue and keep my hands moving.

It's taken longer than I wanted but when my eyes pore upon it, the grief numbs my entire body.

Hidden in plain sight. Just above a shelf of bibles, a large framed photo of a historical England is pushed so close to the wall that it cannot be easily reached. It's not instinct that draws my eyes to it, its desperation.

Each drawer I have searched through, every book and record sheet is packed with personalised notes, signed and dated by Eustace himself and followed by what seems to be a catalogue looking number. Even the shreds of my painting, my name broken upon the wooden floor has a number next to it. A reference.

This framed photo it the only thing that doesn't.

The reason I know that is because the frame is broken. The piece has been thrown up too high and left a mark in the wall of the room and after a talented climb, I'm holding it in my hands. The middle bulges outward, packed neatly into the corners like it's ready to burst. Desperation as sweet as honeyed elixir is sealed onto my lips and tugging the frame free, I gasp.

There's a square folded inside, crumbled, torn, worn away and so imperfect, it looks as if it might be an ancient map.

It's something better. The writing is signed and dated by a nurse. A red border square separates the sections and the information is as follows;

 _Carlisle _ Cullen_

 _14_ _th_ _February 1992_

 _St Thomas's Hospital, London, England._

 _Mother: Julienne __

 _Father: __

 _Blood type: O-_

 _6lbs 6 at birth. Blue eyes, blonde hair. Child possess few freckles on spine and nose and millimetre sized scar on the inlay of the right side of the abdomen due to complications in birth._

There's a faint sound of a closing door. Faint enough to make me feel so. My hands, already so unsteady are shaking a little more until there's a human sound of movement from the bottom floor. He can't be home. He can't be…

Dropping my breath upon my chest, I judge the weight of the paper. It's delicate, easily damaged and with that knowledge, I hurry to break the insole of my trainers with the metal. I'd seen Alice do similar. She'd been fixing her heels at the time, chatting away as her hands worked ferociously. My own do not share the same skill but ripping the back heel as silently as possible, I fold the sheet several times and tuck it under my heel where it can't be seen. I tie my shoelaces so tight my feet nearly break the fabric open, the string cutting into my skin so they can't come off. The room is spinning. But it's quiet. Edward keeps trying to phone me but the sound is off. There's no vibration because the battery is low, made worse when he refuses to quit calling.

My eyes fall upon the room. I check in the drawers to see if I might be able to find a passport, some important bank statement, anything to create a bigger diversion but my treasure is in my shoe.

I can't possibly conceive of my success because it's impossible to have such a thing.

Another sound. Human like but undetectable in nature falls upon my ears. I'd been closing the drawer. The sound could be me hurrying but the faint beat of my chest tells me I'm being naïve.

My phone is now blowing up. It's a nuisance in my pocket and because the fear is already rising, I'm tempted the stab the tool through it. I manage to instead send Edward a text.

 _Wait for me in Mason Avenue , I'll be there soon._

The betrayal may prevent his loyalty. For a second, I can picture him so furiously disgusted that he decides he won't come after all. His features imitating his father's as he pushes himself into rage. The temper breaking through when he smashes something he does not wish to smash.

Guilt moves me faster than fear does and with one last look at the room, I snatch up a fragment of my name and lay my moist palm upon the wooden door of his study.

It's locked.

* * *

 _Edward_

'Edward, calm down.'

'Stop telling me to calm down!' I yell bitterly, screaming through the speaker in hopes that he jumps into action. My hand is tugging my longer hair. I've phoned _everyone_ , no one has any idea where she last was except nowhere near Mason Avenue. No one has seen her, everyone is calling. Guilt is replacing the blood on my hands.

'I'm at work.' He hisses in reminder. 'You need to take a breath and try again. Now what's the issue?'

'Dammit Carlisle, stop fucking undermining me!'

'If you're going to continue to scream-'

It's not an exaggeration. I'm screaming. I know I'm screaming. I'm screaming at him and _for_ him. The families in the parking lot are staring my way.

'Listen to me!' I shout

'I _am_ listening!' He repeats, but the tone is harsh and I know that my own fear and ferocity has frightened him a little. 'Now tell me what's going on?'

'I-'

I can't. The words won't come. The only thing I can manage to picture is the attack of my hands on the piano, forcing weight upon the notes, drowning out the buzzing in my head.

'I don't have long, Edward! Just tell me!'

He's panicking.

I'm panicking.

Still the words are failing. How masochistic it is for me both to want him to punish me for the pain I'm about to inflict upon his soul… and how those trustful, peaceful eyes will inflict me with the utter slaughter of disappointment.

'Speak will you?!'

How can he possibly be patient when he already fears what I'm about to tell him.

I break six traffic violations driving to the hospital.

The receptionist is kind to me today, recognising me instantly and soothes my temper like I'm a sick nursery child. She doesn't return my rudeness and runs to my insistence when I demand to know where Carlisle is.

He's in the neonatal unit. The second stroke of pain hits me.

'Edward?' He gasps, when he passes me at the second reception, red in temples with fury. 'Thank you, Sandra. I'll take it from here.'

He smiles, too tensely for my liking, bows his head a little in high manners of respect (though he is the senior in both qualification and experience), and lightly rests his hand by my arm to pull me aside.

'You were going to call me back.' He reminds me, frown of confusion looking far too stern than I remember seeing it before. I've tried calling her every three minutes since realising. I have spoken to everyone. Alice is driving around town. Emmett has checked the nursery. Bella is speaking to the Walderman's and Rose has checked all the classrooms. No one has seen her.

'I can't find her.' I gasp, the words swallowed by the lack of air pushing them.

His pale face turns whiter and he pulls me towards a corridor void of voices. Voices except the cries of infants, faint and traumatic sounding in the background.

'What are you on about?'

'She…. She isn't…'

'Where is she?!' He understands the issue immediately. There have been discussions between them according to his response of dread. The tone of his demand is jarring like a missed note on the violin. 'What do you mean you can't find her? Where is she?' He asks again, deeper, voice thick and jaw locking.

'I'm- I'm so sorry-' I blurt, unthinkingly.

'What did you say?!'

'I-'

The excuses are falling off my tongue, they're mixing up my speech and in a very low moment for the two of us, he curls a fist on the shoulder of my jacket and shoves me into the wall, behind. His features are apologetic but his voice isn't.

'Tell me where she is!' He says quickly but it almost sounds like he's pleading. At the very least he's gone cold all over. If I'd been thinking the worst, he's writing an obituary.

'I don't know-'

'Don't _lie_ to me, Edward! I can see it! Where has she gone?!'

'She was meant to be at the coffee shop-' I answer, hastily and knowing who he holds responsible, I add; 'Carlisle- I'm so sorry.'

Colour itself, even the pale ghostlike appearance falls dramatically from his face. His right hand unclasps my shoulder, dropping me so easily that I nearly slip to my backside. When he steps back, he does so airlessly. His left foot falters and his hand moves immediately to his chest.

'No…'

It's silent, a scene directed by Quentin Tarantino when his whole world doesn't move for a second. Then the penny drops. He seizes me by the collar, pushing me into the wall merely with the space surrounding him rather than harming me himself and for some bizarre reason it hurts more.

' _Why_?!'

'She thought she could speak to King-' I begin, voice hasty and hands pouring with sweat and grime.

He drops me once more and backs away from me, far away, eyes wide.

'Carlisle- I'm… I'm so sorry.'

'Don't!' He growls and before I can stop him, he's bolted out of sight.

* * *

 _Esme_

The two options I face are ridiculous in all manners.

I can either phone for help, stupid on all matters, dangerous, pathetic and inconceivably selfish. Or I can make a break for it. I have a screwdriver after all. It's just a shame about the maize.

Trying the door again but with more force, I kick it with my full foot, push it with my tensed shoulder and receive the thump of a returning movement. He's playing games. Yet strangely, that makes me far braver than I thought it would. Confrontation makes me brave and with this in mind, I directly address the bastard.

'You can't keep me locked in here forever. There's a phone in here, you know?'

It's 2017, like I have anyone's number listed in my head other than 9-1-1.

The door bangs again.

'What about if I lost _my_ temper?' I threaten, loudly. 'Plenty of books in here, Sir. It would be a shame if damage occurred.'

It rattles again, a warning, a response. How pathetic.

'For all you know, I could've already broken someth-.' That gives me an idea. Or less of an idea. I'm running on a mixture of adrenaline, bravery and stupidity and with that in mind, I grasp a large volume of the shelf. It's older looking, antique and smooth excusing the decaying title pages seeping out the wooden border. With as much force as I can inflict, I hurtle it loudly at the door.

The book smacks loudly against the wall and slides down dramatically, falling to the floor like a clap. Eustace keeps silent, but he rattles the door again.

'Tell me, _sir_? Do you often keep harlots such as I locked in a room?'

I hurtle another book and feel a sense of achievement wash through me when it collapses awkwardly in on itself. The thought of damaging books should make me feel guilty. All this money going to waste… And I throw another book at the door.

He doesn't respond. That would be giving in. He's making me wait. He's driving me to desperation but it's not going to happen. I couldn't be more prepared.

'There must be something in one of these volumes, Sir!' I taunt, calling out like I'm threatening Satan himself. 'Those who fuck a harlot must by association, become one?'

Another stupid book added to the pile.

If I was that desperate, I could probably make a fire. But I can't afford the risk it would do to me. It's as good as suicide.

The next volume I chuck is the first of sixteen bibles. It's smooth, older looking that anything that's been in my hands so far and is a weight to lift. The third one hits the door so violently that for a moment, it looks as if it might give way.

'If you're looking for a good time, I hate to tell you, I'm perfectly legal. Not exactly your preferred prey, so I hear?'

And to follow this jab, I heave the fourth book over my head and throw it, with both hands upon the cover so that it bounds against the door as hard as stone. It makes a similar sound to the floor. Unmistakable in its destruction, it lies like an injured animal of the floor. Paper is seeping out like poured blood, piled against the cracked oak of the door, the hard covers bruised and flimsy from impact.

I nudge the front with my foot. Not _just_ paper.

A sharp corner is poking out from beneath a page, some sermon or whatever. Pulling the book up and emptying it of any further contents, my heart starts to pound. There's a square of card on the floor.

Just a square.

A polaroid.

My feet sway unsteadily and I take a second to clench and unclench my hand before crouching beside it like a child to an insect.

To look was a violation of every trust I'd ever been bestowed with. To look was to change every perception I ever had of him. To look forced an empathy I wasn't ready to align with and to look was to achieve confirmation.

To not look was to live a lie.

The card is so flat against the wooden floor that it doesn't come up easy. It takes for me to pry my nails underneath and pull it over.

I look at it for no longer than two seconds. For a fact. The first second is enough to capture the scene as a whole, as if looking at a pattern of pixelated flesh and the second is to affirm _one_ detail. No older than twelve. Hiding the photo in my back pocket, I lift my foot and push it so forcefully against the door that I feel the weight of a person be knocked from it.

'Hey, you sick-fuck!' I scream, feeling the vibration in the wood because now, the salt water is clawing up my throat and along my tear ducts. 'Is this what it's all about? A swapping fest? Endorsing child prostitution like the _cancer_ you are?'

The door unlocks and the figure moves so fast that even though I'm prepared for the attack, I move as easily as paper when he shoves me into the wall. Grabbing my chin in his hand, he keeps me staring at him, arms forcing me into some hanging painting until the frame is piercing my skin.

'Perhaps it would do you well to hold your _tongue_ ,' He warns, leaning so close to my face that the wicked eyes and nose nearly push into my features. I bite my tongue so hard that the salty brine of blood swims along my taste buds.

'You don't frighten me.' I spit, pushing against his frail looking arm though that only tightens his force. It's not as frail as it looks

'Then you are naïve. A _child_.'

'Your usual victim.' I remark, bitterly but my own realisation makes me feel worse. I wish I hadn't so hastily leaked tears because he can see them on my face. He can smell it and eyes it like a marking of respect.

He's so old looking. Friendly from a side profile but the smirk is so dark, so unlike Carlisle that they become opposite people. Even more opposite then their details make them seem. He's unshaven and the stubble catches on my skin when he lowers his threats to my ear.

'Do you often throw tantrums?' He asks, narrowing eyes upon my body like he's sizing me up for market. 'Throw your toys out the pram?' The sound of his sinister tone is so foreign that I cannot detect its source.

'Run with sharp objects?' He continues and clasping his hand around my wrist, he slams it back into the wall until a cry of pain leaves my lips. The screwdriver falls dramatically from my grip and hearing it fall upon the floor; he smirks once more and shakes his dark head.

'Isn't pride one of the deadly sins?' I remark, pushing onto my tiptoes to try and give me leverage. He's pushing into me so heavily; I can feel the suffocation eating me. I don't want to gasp for air and give him the satisfaction but I'd rather do that than faint. He surprises me in dropping me and watching me stumble upon wavy feet.

'You stupid whore. Pride and pity are indeterminable to such creatures. One will lead to _your_ eternal torture and the other…won't.' He finishes his sentence with a smart shrug, shoulders coming up casually as he backs against his desk, professing the scent of disgust and dust.

'You can't threaten me with your God-bollocks after fucking children, you twisted pervert!' I spit, using my face to arrange the disgust as violently as my tongue does.

With a simple flick of the wrist, he smashes a paper weight to the wall, inches from my right shoulder so that the shards of glass bite into my cheek. I closed my eyes in enough time and when I force a breath through my chest, turning around to face him again, the burn of his hand across my mouth knocks my face into the wall.

I groan lightly.

'You should wash your mouth out before being a fool enough to answer me back-'

'Don't like that huh?' I respond, briefly touching my jaw to check to see if the inflammation is as bad as it feels. 'Don't like witnessing your sins-?'

'Do not blaspheme _me_ ; I have only ever followed the will of our Lord. It was His will to purge the Earth and I will restore His honour by following in His light.' As he speaks, the energy eats his posture, pulling up his frame so that his suit stands out like a costume in a fancy dress party.

The moment I laugh, he snarls.

'You're not just a paedophile-'

'Watch your mouth!' He roars.

'And not just proud, either!' I laugh, louder and shake my head. The rage is emanating from him like an aura of heat.

'To insinuate I am sinful-'

' _You're blasphemous_.'

He stands up now launching himself towards me and despite every instinct in my bones, I stay still. He stops before my feet, towering over like another being, a harrowed creature, his nose too stout and his lip trembling.

'Do you dare offend-?' He begins but I proudly interrupt him.

'You think you're a _god_.'

'This is no other but He-' He shouts, the words falling short of a punch in the face, like I'm surrounded by protective glass.

'You're right. And yet you offend him most by using His honour to excuse your vices and live in His light to absorb it-' I speak so hastily, that I care little about the sense I'm making or if I'm making sense at all.

Clearly I've struck a chord and just as the note sounds, his own fist strikes upon me again. It feels weirdly bad to do so but I kick out my leg and return the injury, doubling him over so that a grunt falls short.

'Such a brat as you will be punished in the highest accord.'

'What you going to do? Stone me to death?' I laugh again, though it's painful, and stay close to the wall by the door. He's left it open. My escape is imminent. His own stupidity is as clear as day and while I make no sudden movements, I make sure my route will be as simple as possible.

He cannot conceive of his failure just yet. His arrogance is as consuming as wild flames of pain upon my cheek. I can feel the swelling gather already.

'I've already told you of your punishment.' Something on the floor gathers his attention and as he reaches to grab it, I similarly reach and gather a bible in my hands. When he faces me, the laughter is eating into his worn face and for a moment he looks so beyond the capabilities of pain that I doubt myself completely.

'You don't frighten me.' I repeat but my voice shakes this time and his smile sends shivers up my spine.

'You _will_ suffer eternal torture and will do so imminently.' His voice drops to a sinister whisper and while I have a direct route behind me, I throw the book his way and force my way through the door, running so dramatically that I nearly catch my death on the steps into the hallway.

The chandelier light blinds me for a moment. My pulse quickening at the feel of fresh air pours onto my sore face. I fall onto the front door with both my hands spread hand and rattling. It's locked.

Of course, it's locked.

I run through the very rooms I decorated, reaching through to the backdoor and that, too is locked. My own sense of paranoia is screaming inside my head. Sirens and screams and laughter pouring into my ears like a bad dream- I'll have to head into the front room and break a window. So I run back, looking up the flight of stairs but Eustace is hiding away from view. He's not chasing me as I so rashly fear. He's probably phoning the police. He has enough evidence to get me arrested.

Shit, my blood. My grazed hands are sore but my nails are causing them to bleed. I've touched so much… my DNA is everywhere… I didn't prepare for this. I didn't prepare for _success_ …

The front room is open but not as dark as it looked a few nights ago. Without Carlisle to restrain inside it, without the scream of Edward's words, it's simply an attractive looking room. The window is obviously locked and though I cry out, I know I can break it with a chair or something.

'Leaving so soon, My little Brown eyes.'

Everything stops. The only sound that occurs is the rush of blood in my ears as I watch the figure step towards me. My whole body is statuesque and yet the shakes take me so violently that it's a struggle to force movement.

I'm just still.

'Thought you'd escape so easily now didn't you?' He sniggers, his bulbous face breaking into another grin. 'You were so proud of yourself, Esme.'

'Don't come near me.' I warn, stepping away from him and falling backwards over a chair. I try to scramble up, to reach my feet but nothing moves, my hands won't grasp the floor. My legs won't stand. My feet are dead. To make things worse, I've just collided my head with something sharp and instantly, it's knocked my vision enough that I can't make sense of the images.

'You were never so clumsy at work.' He teases, narrowing an eye and breathing thickly out his nose. It's so like a snore that I can feel the sickness from the photo try to reach up again.

I actively swallow a lump of vomit from my tongue.

'You just love to tease…' He murmurs, aligning one foot by my hip and the other on my thigh. If he so much as leans his weight, it'll break. It's already impossible to move.

The aches and alarms of agony already seeping into my hair are running along my thigh. Carlisle was right. I've lost weight. For the first time since noticing, I couldn't feel more sickened with myself. There's just a swollen fragility and when I try and move, the frailty cracks. It's no more than a fracture and yet still I scream.

'Now… why don't we finish what we started?'

Then he kicks my head back into the table so that everything in the next twenty minutes and beyond fades to black.

* * *

When I wake up, I'm lying in a pile of my own vomit, my hair tugged over my face and my hands embedded into the floor beneath me.

No, not floor. Grass. I'm outside with the spring air attacking my limbs.

I go to open my eyes, push myself up. My arms can't bear the weight and trying again, I'm knocked when a scream falls about my ears.

'She's responding. Oh my word, she's responding.'

I can't place the voice. I have some weird desperation for it to be Alice. Alice's comforting tones, her squawk of disapproval that I shy away from… The hand surrounding me is too heavy to be Alice's.

'I don't think she can stand…' The voice is saying. It's young, trivial and panicked. I think her hand is on my back but everything hurts so violently that I just can't tell which is genuine pain is which is just pressure. It all feels the same.

'Someone's on their way.' She tries to reassure.

Maybe even my mom. She'd be disgusted with me. She'd hate me for depending on her but beneath it all; she'd at least be there to recognise the state of pain. She'd open up her robotic arms and hug me coldly, pretending that she knew.

'I don't think she speaks English.'

I can't see much, but I don't know if that's because of my closed eyes, constantly leaking like I'm crying in my sleep, or if it's because it's evening. I don't even know where I am. It's just cold but the stranger is kind enough to try and soothe my shudders with some gentle placating.

At this current moment in time, I can't find the voice to tell her she's hurting me. Or maybe she's not hurting me. Instead, I'm just hurting. I'm _just_ hurting.

'There, there…' She hushes, stroking my back like she's unsure if I'm a feline or a child.

I decide not to open my eyes again until they're forced open by blue lights.

After being poked and prodded and having people yell loudly into my ears, a dark and concerned face peers into mine. His reflective jacket is making my eyes water but when I scrunch my eyes up, he tugs my eyelid again.

'Do you know where you are?' He asks, louder, clearly, breaking each word into an individual sentence.

Technically no. On grass? Unfortunately not on _grass_ , though.

'Can you tell me you name?' He repeats louder, attempting to coax it out of me but in a manner that is so professionally forced, it feels artificial.

My head is still on my arm, out of the vomit now. I can hear them try and calculate not only the number of injuries on my person but how they have been obtained. He makes a signal with his hand, maybe he's trying to see if I'm deaf, and the relief breaks through him when my eyes follow the hand movements.

'She's responsive.' He yells over my shoulder. 'Can you speak for me? Tell me your name?'

'I need water.' I croak.

No one obviously hears that but when I try and pull myself up, a group of them stop me, warning me that I need to take it slow.

'Do you know where you are?'

For the sake of ease, I nod and from there, they trust me enough to help me sit up. I try to stand up. They tell me off. I try to do it again and though I manage it, even with them guarding my movements, the sudden weight makes me retch and I double over to attempt to empty out my stomach. Nothing else comes up.

They put me in an ambulance. They don't listen to anything I say, even when I'm sobbing. They just keep telling me I'm okay as they drape blankets around my shoulders.

'Let me call someone?' The dark-skinned guy offers, he's sat close to me but at an angle which is suggesting he's afraid I'll run. I shake my head. 'Please, your parents? Anyone?'

'I don't live with my parents.'

He seems amazed I speak English and keeps looking to where my hands are clasped together on my knees. I haven't stopped shivering.

'Who do you live with?'

But he doesn't get another word of out me.

It's obvious. Even shielding my face, even after begging, they take me to the very obvious hospital and speak in hushed tones to the receptionist. They're making sure I don't escape. They have me on lock down. I feel guilty for crying again but it's the only method I have. It doesn't work and the moment a nurse looks at me, I know I won't have to stay here much longer. The whispers say enough.

The unit I am taken to is a specialist one. It makes you feel like you're at Day-care with laboratories pouring out your ears. They don't let my leave, not easily at least and they don't let me wash either. They swab everything, they take my clothes from me, my shoes, my jeans but I have such a meltdown, that they concede to returning them momentarily.

The photo I folded in the pocket and the paper in the shoe they question, but not aloud and I'm granted permission to keep them without having to pry them open. I don't get to keep the clothes after that.

It's not just the clothes they swab but me, too. Like they're taking cuttings of my body and peering inside the crevices with a microscope. I cry so much that I forget why I'm crying.

It's just comforting to purge now.

In the fight between us they win. I am the stubborn child and they, the relentless adult. They get to take their swabs, they can judge the alcohol on my breath and they can pick at my skin and fingernails.

The words I don't give so easily.

They sit me in a room with two women, a man and a Dictaphone. They ask me, in soft tones, what happened and I can barely find the energy to shrug.

'Were you at a party? You've been drinking.'

I shake my head.

'Do you remember what happened?'

I shake my head again.

The younger police officer, sweet, gentle looking but with excessive oily skin lays her hand on the table.

'Miss Platt, we understand the difficulty of your position but if we don't find out who did this… you could be the first of many victims along the line…'

I regret giving her my name now.

They ask if it was a boyfriend, an ex-partner, a flirtation. They don't like not having the answer. They're frustrated, they're offering me tea and coffee, biscuits, a full meal, they're promising they'll only revisit it the once…

Still I keep quiet. Any information they tell me I just nod my head to, like I'm not involved until eventually, they concede a little.

They need me to do a report. I won't give them more than two words.

'Would it help if you had someone with you?'

I'm shaking the tears away.

I arrive home at a little after ten. My eyes are sore and bloodshot and I'm struggling to walk as if I haven't shat myself.

I'm in so much agony maybe I have shat myself. Who's to tell anymore? After the alcohol on my breath, whose to believe anything I say.

'Will there be anyone home?' The offer asks, opening the door for me like an invalid. I nod.

I'm trying to use up the last of my silence here so I can pretend to be brave once I get up to the porch-. It's too late. The light comes on and in a panic; I throw my hand over my mouth to stop me vomiting again.

'Here, let me walk you to the door-'

'Esme?'

'Es?!' Edward realises and he pushes past Carlisle's horror to grasp a hold of me. He thinks I'm going to fall.

'Careful, Sir-'

'I've got her.' He snaps to the stranger, barking almost with his nose snarled. 'She's fine, I've got her!'

I try and push past but the movements are so weak that Edward doesn't recognise I'm trying to break free from him. Carlisle does though and looking from the corner of his eye, he rests a hand on Edward's arm.

'Let go, Edward.' It's such a quiet sound, so neat and even but so delicate. I wonder if he might jump to keep me standing but no one moves and I don't catch him looking at me again.

Frowning, my copper haired companion unloosens his arms from my shoulders, staying too closely aligned for my liking but he can't recognise that. He's just a kid.

'What's going on Officer?'

'Perhaps we should head inside…' He starts to say, looking at me for confirmation. I want to burn him alive. 'Miss Platt?'

'I'm fine.' I repeat, my voice monotone, fighting the look of all three men. I've frightened myself with the tone.

'What's going on?' Edward asks, looking between us like he might faint but Carlisle is astutely calm.

'Miss Platt… in cases such as this it is often best-'

'I'm fine.' I repeat louder in hopes this will achieve finality. The sound is a claw upon a window.

'Miss Platt-' he repeats, desperately but I'm already doing my best not to _hobble_ inside the house.

'Es-' Edward adds, 'Wait, we need to-.'

Carlisle must stop him but I don't talk to him. I don't talk to either of them.

Closing my door and shutting the blinds, for the next three days, unaware of the new bedding that has been acquired, I fall into an unconscious sleep.


	53. Reasons why to take a breath

**_Dear all you beautiful and wonderful people,_**

 ** _Sooooo many apologies that I don't even know where to begin. Everything that could've gone wrong, did and in the space that you have been patiently waiting, I've been reading and writing and learning and discovering soooo much. I'm so sorry for my absence and I cannot thank you all enough for your continued support._**

 ** _Two things to say._**

 ** _One; I have plenty in store still and your patience will be well rewarded- in the sense that while this story DOES have an end in sight, that end is not today, or tomorrow... or for a while, I reckon. I have no plans to give up this story and even though I have been super busy, I fully intend to keep going until it's finished. Your interest has been a huge motivation and I'm so grateful you're as intrigued into this story a I am committed to writing it (I just wish I had more time to spare!)_**

 ** _Two; While it may not look as such, this chapter has been a very carefully written (and re-written) one and the themes expressed may be disturbing. I didn't always intend to write this chapter, and though the route isn't much different, this added detail is still important. However, it has been a bit of a risk and I'm hoping it'll play off._**

 ** _All will be explained over time._**

 ** _Many thanks to you all, I wish I had the time to thank you all personally, you are brilliant._**

* * *

 _Deep disarrayed features mirror my own as I sink harder into the glass table, towards the scent of tobacco. He looks like he's about to say something I'll dislike. I sharpen my tongue ready, sitting up tall, stretching my shoulders to prove how mature I am without fiddling with the rings on my knuckles._

 _'You shouldn't have done it.' He mutters disapprovingly._

 _'I had to, Daddy.'_

 _He reaches over to tug my ringlets affectionately and from sitting up straight and breathing the coffee, I now swing my frilly-socked feet to and fro, admiring my dirt covered knees beneath a green dress._

 _'Are you mad at me?'_

 _'You don't know what you've gotten yourself into, Maple.'_

 _'It was an accident, Daddy.'_

 _'It was stupid!' He curses, jumping up so suddenly that the garden furniture snaps shut. He smashes the brittle glass of the table by pressing into it. 'You stupid child. You don't realise what he's doing to you!'_

 _'It's not his fault, Dad!' I shout defensively, bulbous tears streaking eyeliner into my ironed hair. I try to hold my ground but the boots of my high heels slink deeper into the very dirt that once stained my skin._

 _He snorts, spitting the excess phlegm into trodden grass. 'You love him, do you?'_

 _'He cares for me!' I cry, clasping desperately at him. He swats me away._

 _'You have no idea the damage you're causing yourself!' Sneering at me, he lights a cigarette. It makes him cough and cough and cough. He's suffocating, but he still keeps breathing from it until clouds form from his mouth and his tongue blackens._

 _'You shouldn't be smoking!' I beg him, trying to be louder so that he can't shut me up. 'Please! The chemotherapy!'_

 _As I reach towards him, he closes his hand along my wrist like manacles and forces my eyes to focus. My skin is burnt, swollen, delicate. The skin is wet newspaper, tearing and disintegrating under any touch._

 _'It was an accident, Daddy!'_

 _'Look!' He screams, and when he pulls my arm into sight again, I see the only marks along my rosy arms are the outline of two perfectly sweet lips. Kisses decorate my arms, along my neck, leading up along my cheek bone and down my spine until I can feel them prickling all over._

 _'It's happening again, isn't it?!'_

 _'It's not his fault!' I cry again, stamping my feet and begging him to listen to me. Yet the louder I scream for his attention, the less he notices._

 _'He loves me!'_

 _'It's not enough, Esme!'_

 _'Please.'_

 _'I said it's not enough!'_

 _'He's trying to make it better!' I say, salt water rising up my throat._

 _He's started walking away, feet pressing deeper into the grass and soil until its staining his slacks. I try to chase him but he's so far ahead of me that I can only see the back of his dirtied coat. I keep running towards him, faster, pounding my little legs into cycles, tripping over falling rocks and my own balance... I can't reach him. The marks on my skin have started to itch, they're uncomfortable, sinking into my flesh like brands._

 _'Daddy, I love him!'_

 _'You don't know what love is, you stupid child.'_

 _I'm screaming for him to turn around but he keeps walking deeper into the pit, far from my grasp. I scream louder, I throw a tantrum, I'm kicking those little black shoes into the dirt, trying to catch up and never getting close enough, my skin smoking under each burn until suddenly, I'm seized._

* * *

'Esme?! Breathe, my love. You're okay. _Breathe_.'

Moist hands try to hold my shoulders still. They're shaking, and I don't realise until he puts a white palm upon my cheek that I'm still trying to scream. Attempting to brush away non-existent tears, he incidentally leads my line of sight towards his damaged one. Carlisle's once-soft face now looks haggard, pained and sleepless, his left eye too bruised and too swollen to sit symmetrically with his face. Noticing the steel of my bones, he tries to hold me steady but I push him violently, slapping him away in case I dare taint him.

I want to cry in between choking but the task proves too much for a suffocating automaton. He encourages slow inhales and exhales by example, dramatically filling his chest in case English is a forgotten language. His blue eyes are wide, or as wide as they can be, almost like they're reading every word in every gasp. Both hands he lays still on the bed; within view but not on my body.

'What's going on?!' Edward demands huskily rushing to my doorway and looking just as pale as the sleepless Saint.

'It's fine...' Carlisle murmurs, reaching over to brush a thumb across my puffy cheeks. On my flinch, he stops and when I turn my face away he lets his hand drift back to his side. The water smears itself on my bottom lip. 'It's fine. Why don't you go back to bed?' He sighs, gently.

I'm not sure who that's directed to until he answers.

'Go back to bed? She was _screaming_ , Carlisle!'

We both turn to give a salty, displeased glare. More so because Edward's just confirmed what I already assumed. They're speculating, making suppositions and choosing what they think is best for me. The disbelief on those heavy blonde features looks exhausted and eventually, Edward stormily leaves my room.

'Are you okay?' Carlisle whispers.

This is the closest he's been to me in three days. I can't stand it. I can feel him testing the tenderness of my wounds, taking in the state of my hands, judging the bandages on my head. I haven't changed them as instructed. I haven't done anything. Even as I struggle to sit, he's examining my every bruise.

I nod dumbly and resist comfort, backing out of his security to sit spaciously on my side of the bed without posing an invitation. I'm still dressed. Not in the hospital clothes. Those are buried in the corner behind my door. The t-shirt and jumper I'm wrapped in is far too hot to wear with the sweat is gathering beneath my hairline. My tracksuits aren't like pyjamas, more like patterned jeans and I have my socks rolled over the ankles to keep from contaminating too much air. Honestly, I'm ready to run and the expert he is knows this. Aptly noting my desperation to inch away from him using the bedding as a shield, he tugs the duvet around me, placating me like a child until my eyes are closing again.

'Do you need anything?'

I shake my head and without another word, he nods and silently leaves the room.

'You should've told her.' Edward chides, loudly, as he closes my door again and for yet another night, I stay in my room and don't leave.

* * *

 _'Pacing isn't doing anything.'_

 _'It's something.' Carlisle responds bitterly and even from up here, my shoulders shudder._

 _'You don't think I feel guilty, too?'_

 _'Just shut-up, Edward...'_

 _'I'm worried as well, Carlisle-'_

 _'If you were so worried, you would never have-'_

 _'That's not fair!' The kid yells petulantly. 'We did it for you! She was trying to sort this shitty-'_

 _'And look where we are now!' Comes the furious interruption. 'I am lying through my teeth telling everybody she is fine, accepting your bullshit excuses when I know for a fact she isn't fine and it's my fault-'_

 _'Dude-'_

 _'Don't!' He snaps and I wonder if Edward has his eyebrows interwoven like a Sudoku puzzle._

 _'You can't just act on assumptions!' The youngest Masen insists. 'We don't know what happened-'_

 _'We know that if I hadn't have been so careless, she wouldn't be...'_

 _He can't bring himself to consider the answer._

 _'That's bullshit, Carlisle!'_

 _There's a crashing sound of something colliding into the wall and I hope more than anything it's the house phone. It's been the one sound impossible to drown out these last few nights._

 _'Is it?! She hasn't left her room for three days and the only sound she does make during those three days is a scream. What are we meant to think?'_

 _'You need to talk to her-'_

 _'And risk causing more injury? She doesn't want to see me, Edward. She couldn't even look at me!' The anger quietens down to a gentle bemoaning and I can see him sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands, fingers wrenching at the darker roots. 'It's my entire fucking fault.'_

 _'You need to make her listen-'_

 _'I'm not making her do anything.' He growls, and the sound is like a slap across the younger one's face. The slap isn't hard enough because Edward's musical tones darken in empathy._

 _'And how is it going to go down when she decides that she's ready to talk and you're gone? Did you think about that?' Edward asks, smartly and there's almost a vibratory snort in response._

 _'I won't risk hurting her.'_

 _'She's already hurt. Walking on eggshells isn't helping. You need to tell her before something bad happens...'_

 _'She's fucking catatonic! She doesn't want anything to do with me and I don't blame her. I just, I need to leave before I ruin her-'_

 _'You really are fucking stupid!' Edward shouts and there's a long uncomfortable silence between them for a few more moments. 'If you go there's no guarantee you'll come back. How is she meant to cope with that?'_

 _'It's clearly better-'_

 _'She… she can't lose you, Carlisle.'_

 _'She doesn't want me. Especially now-'_

 _'Stop being so stupidly self-centred!' Edward groans. 'For fuck sake, have you considered that it's nothing to do with you-'_

 _'It's everything to do with me!' Carlisle fights._

 _'You know she deals with things in this way-'_

 _'What things, though, Edward?' He isn't as loud this time but he sounds just as furious even in lower decibels. 'What have I done to her?'_

 _'It's not our fault…' He murmurs gently but this just pushes him back into emotional outrage._

 _'You know perfectly well it is my fault!'_

 _'You need to be supporting her...'_

 _'Supporting her through what? I have no idea who to look at. I have no idea if it was someone involved in this shitty ordeal, if it was a stranger...I have nothing to go by. Except if I leave this house-'_

 _'Why are you blaming me?' Edward asks rather shrilly and despite the obvious answer, there's another clatter of sound. 'That's not fair, I had to call him.'_

 _'You know darn well you didn't!'_

 _'For fuck sake Carlisle, if it wasn't him, it would've been worse and you wouldn't even be under house arrest, you'd be right out the country-'_

 _'Which is exactly where I'm going to end up, anyway. You had no right to get Charlie Swan involved!'_

 _'Jesus Christ, can you not see it yet?!' Masen retorts sarcastically. 'You were seconds from having your license revoked. The man is in hospital and we don't even know if he had anything to do with-'_

 _'How can you say that?!'_

 _'Why would it involve him? Really?'_

 _'He started this whole shit. If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't be-'_

 _'You can't know that!' Edward growls._

 _'No!' Carlisle roars in agreement. 'I can't. But you can.'_

 _'You need to talk her-'_

 _'Grow up.'_

* * *

Sometime later in the silence of the evening when my bruised body aches for the movement that hurts it, I try once more to gather my surroundings. Every inch of my defiled skin itches like insects are crawling along my blood stream. My stomach is empty, a black void within a cage but on the scent of food, I'm nauseated again.

It's like I've just awoken from laser eye surgery. The ceiling overhead is ghastly white, spotted with black holes in my vision and made deadly by my dizziness. I don't see the details of my room; I simply recall them from the direction I face. Sensitive eyes glance over where the wardrobe should be, my laptop, the soiled clothes in the corner of the room. I shiver despite the sweat on my slender neck.

The three day lack of energy is so bad that when I pull myself from the bed I come falling to my feet. Sucking the toxic air into my mouth, I force weight onto my step and trip foolishly hard into the wall, sliding down the plaster dramatically and struggling to find a breath.

The window won't open. I haven't tried it but I know it from the heat in the room. The struggle to move makes my head spin so fast that the ground starts to slant beneath me and I quickly tumble to my knees like a newborn deer. One hand on the door knob, eyes streaming from light sensitivity and gasping, I haul myself against the door, ease it open and stumble past the several platters of cold food left outside my room.

Once in the bathroom, I slip painfully and though I aim for it to do so, I'm lucky my forehead misses the sink.

The shower would be so much easier if I didn't have to sit down. It's a long shower, too. Interrupted by the several times I heave up bile. Edward, I know it's him by the announcing footsteps, knocks lightly on the door but assuming the obviously reply, he returns back to his room in silence.

It takes so long to shower that I must have blacked out. I awaken sharply at the feel of a razor upon my skin. The water is unusually cold, beating upon the purple on my wrists, my eyes dropping with it. My hands are empty, wrinkled, sore, and grazed but still empty. Yet the sight of blood was so clear-...

For the hour it took to shower, it takes another to dress. I even pull on a jacket though I don't plan on going anywhere. I get halfway down the stairs when I realise my mistake, but it's warm so I leave it on. With any hope, I can sweat the disease from me. Though I don't know which is sweat and which is blood anymore.

I pass Carlisle on my travels into the kitchen. He's asleep at the table, forehead resting on the back of a scraped hand. Hesitating, because I can barely see, I decide I need food before making any rash decisions.

My three day fasting surprises me once more. I'm ravenous. I eat so much bread that my stomach swells beneath me, growing out from under me like a cartoon balloon but I don't stop there. Alice has stopped by. She's fed the boys and tried several times to feed me judging by the note on the casserole dish. It would be rude to disappoint her so I eat a bowl or two of her pasta. I follow this with ice cream, tonnes of ice cream, and chocolate and left over cake, cookies, candy, snacks...

In fact when I open my eyes again, I'm still sat at the table. I've made tea and one slice of toast and touch neither. My hand shakes when I try to lift either to my mouth and my eyes glaze over.

With no amount of enthusiasm, I place a cube of sugar my tongue and wait patiently. It gives me a headache but once I promise myself I can keep down, I can try the toast. The butter is thick and warm and struggles to sit nicely in my stomach. It makes me guilty about the untouched food upstairs in comparison but at least I can trust this food hasn't been poisoned. The boys wouldn't do it deliberately. Maybe just truth serum stirred into my drink. Or antibiotics into my soup.

The start of their interrogation.

I don't move from my seat for a long time. It's like I've over eaten with a swollen stomach to accommodate it but it's enough sugar to stop me thinking about driving off the edge of a cliff.

Or that's what I tell myself.

It's twenty past two am according to Carlisle's watch. The hand not supporting his head is stained with ink on both sides. It's outstretched like a painting, waiting for a scalpel to be placed into it. His wrists are worse than mine. Realistically, he looks worse too. I know he's been arrested, not from the mass of paperwork on the table, or the conversation with Edward, from the outline on his wrists. The skin looks worn away and despite being asleep in the most social area of the house; his long sleeved t-shirt aims to cover it. His thick hair is even more tousled over dark eyes and though I'm tempted to wake him, I stay safely in my realm of silence.

He's exhausted anyway and I don't want to speak to him.

An uncontainable gasp leaves my lips and though he stirs, he doesn't wake. My shoes move around his opposite side and moving his fringe aside, it's clear how the deep purple and yellow under his eye stands sickly against his pale skin. Noticing suddenly that I'm at risk of infecting him, I snatch my own whimpered arm from him and cover my mouth.

Considering I have less than a cup full of water in my system, I'm alarmed by the rush of water towards my lashes. Desperate to not see the state of him I balance a hand on a surgery book. Moving it aside there are more school note books underneath. Then there's certificates and medical qualifications, graduation certificates, reports... Paper covers every panel of the table.

I hesitate once more but deciding I don't want to know about it, I look away again... and beneath my eyes is another letter.

His visa has been revoked.

I'm suddenly grateful for the shoes and coat.

* * *

' _Esme_?!'

Words are thrown aggressively their way and more aware than ever at my lack of energy, I stumble thoughtlessly into Elizabeth's arms at the cross of the steps. She almost struggles to bear my weight.

'Edward!' She calls aside, her voice brittle and sore. 'Oh my word. _Edward_! Come on, my love. Come sit down...'

She tries to lead me patiently into their hotel living room, an address I'd managed to gather prior to my hasty escape, but my legs stumble and initiated more by the lack of voice, I try repeatedly to explain my purpose.

'What happened? Tell me what happened?!' She emotionally demands as I try wordlessly to speak.

My stomach spews up the only remains of food onto their pristine carpet and after one last blank stare at her jeweled eyes; I don't notice another thing until I come round again an hour later.

Edward Senior's dulcet mumbling can be heard through each wall in this villa. He treads lighter than his son but speaks louder and it's only in confusion that I manage to guess he's talking to someone important.

'Drink something.' She urges from behind my hair.

It's less of an emotional plea this time and more of a motherly order. In spite of its ferocity, Elizabeth still caresses my cheek softly and bites her request for an explanation. Moving slowly, I do as I'm told and drink something. Properly this time. Water at first, small sips repeatedly until my head no longer screams. From that I could manage a healthy snack bar, to pick my way through half a tub of grapes. Then more cake and sugar until E numbers are raining in my system.

'I'm sorry-'

'Don't you dare.' She barks. 'Don't you dare apologise for being here! To think-' She suddenly stands away from me, clutching at her waist like she can't breathe as rolls of tears drown her cheeks. 'To think that- to see... oh my Lord... we've been so _worried_!'

I hear her repulsion through telepathy; 'You're so bloated.'

It is so disorienting seeing someone else breakdown for my purpose that for a full two-minutes I don't budge to breathe. Though soon realising that she can be heard in the next room, I appear at her side, trying to reassure that I'm fine. She squeezes my hand so hard it hurts but I have to let her do it while she cries a little more. Part of me wants to ask who she's crying for but I don't want the answer.

'I know it's late...' I utter, feeling that this is the closest I'll be allowed to regret. Sentences absolve her honour and swallowing the lump in her throat, she shakes her head.

'We've been awake for days.'

'You must be exhausted then.'

She glares at me and I realise that she doesn't like to be pitied either. Nor does she like to be placed into competition with anything.

'We are so worried...'

'I'm sor-' But she glares again, forcing me to stop short. Edward's famous eyes are mocking me and guiltily, I look to the carpet where I thought I vomited. She sees me frowning and imitates but I'm so exhausted trying to distinguish which is true and which isn't, that I make myself chew on nothing, swallowing without a taste.

'I have something...' I say instead, already guessing the route of her questions and feeling far too sick to want to discuss them. 'Something that'll will help.'

I pat down my coat pockets, check inside and to my horror... find it's empty. I check it again, turning them inside out. Just fabric. The breath goes out from under me and collapsing to my knees, my nails scratch at the holes.

'It was here!' I squeal hysterically and I find myself so frantic in searching for the old paper that I don't realise Elizabeth is holding both my shoulders steady.

I don't blackout this time, I don't faint and I don't cry. My whole sense of worth shatters in her delicate hands and before she can calm my hysterics, I'm already gasping for air, dampening her smooth cardigan with dry spit and not calming though my steel lunges need it.

'It was for nothing.' I stutter wordlessly as she smooths my back. I flinch from her but she ignores the movement and keeps placing pressure on my spine until the warm taste of oxygen is distinguishing the fire of suffocation.

Mrs Masen dares not to correct me until she can be sure I've made noise of every bitter snort of air tortured from my frame and she doesn't shy from it. I warn her not to touch me. I try to tell her I'm diseased but she doesn't loosen her hold on me.

'You gave it to him, My love.' She reassures, pushing a warm cup towards my hands. It's a ceramic hotel mug and the liquid inside smells strongly of chamomile. Her long lashes, wet unlike mine, brush against her top lid when she glances towards the door. 'The boys...' She stops and looks away, ashamed. 'We called them...'

'Is... he okay?' I manage to ask, using the strength of my elbows to bring the cup to my lips. It burns my lip and tongue and hurts my throat but I take it down without a fight. It's raw, scratching open wounds like a bladed knife.

'Would you like to speak to them?'

Her melody has gone down a tone and listening to the wariness of the men next door, I'm embarrassed to think about the state I must appear to Edward Senior. Typical girl; hysterical over uncontrollable things while the men sort things out next-door. My sore eyes speak for me and though I flinch again, she softly pats my hand even though I've hidden them beneath the jumper cuffs. I stay hunched together; afraid that my limbs will fall apart and together we try and distinguish the various words from the main room.

'Can't you see what it is, Carlisle?' Senior implores and the submission of his voice proves that no one is over joyous by this discovery except for Senior himself.

'I won't look at it.'

'I really think you should-'

'I said no.'

'But Carlisle- _Edward! F_ or Heaven's Sake if you can't control yourself then get out. Carlisle look. This is everything... This is you in its entirety.'

A sarcastic snort turns sharper and before I can force my shoulders to tense, I realise I'm flinching again.

'Please?'

'Dad...' Edward snivels.

'Fine.' Senior concedes, tiredly. 'I'll send this off with the application and I'll phone in the morning just to see if I can hurry the process along...'

'Thank you.'

It's cold, and said with an air of distaste. Elizabeth likewise is hiding within her shoulders. Her hair has been straggled from its clip and she reminds me quite like the mother of a newborn, kept up all night. Guilty, I look away but her imploring green eyes are still on my face.

'You don't...'

'I do.' I whisper. 'I have to talk to them.' Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I jump a little when she touches me.

'In your own time.'

I nod.

'You need sleep.' She comments and though I think this is self diagnosis too, the weight of today is enough for me to agree.

'All I've done is sleep.'

'It's... it's a sign of trauma.' She says, under her breath and I feel nauseated again.

'How ...?' I won't look at her.

'The marks...' When I think she's going to continue, to assume the worst, she turns her head away and bites her lip. I want to the same but instead, I hold my throat. Her voice is frail when she starts again. 'You can stay here tonight? Or another room? If you want?'

'No...'

'Oh, Esme.'

'I...' I take a very deliberate breath and look towards the door. The boys are spread across the room. Senior is at a table with his head bowed, Edward's eyes are red, his Adam's apple high with his eyes on his shoes and Carlisle is glaring outside the window with both hands behind his back. No one hears me approach and all look suddenly surprised when I clear my unrecognisable voice.

'I want to go home.' I announce.

Both boys hedge towards me but with a curt shake of my head, they stop in their tracks. Carlisle retreats, face hard and his bruised eye forcing him to squint in a way that makes my chest ache.

'It is late. How about we call you three tomorrow?' Senior's head tilts towards me and I realise that he's trying very hard to avoid catching my eye while still trying to assess the damage, too. Edward is itching to stand close to me: to share a look of triumph or defeat, I'm not sure but I can feel the heat of his shame warm my own cold skin.

'If you think that's necessary.'

I look at Carlisle, embarrassed tenfold when we catch each other staring and both flinch away.

'You'll call us if you need anything, right?' Liz says from behind.

I can almost feel her hesitating to put her hand on my back and I'm glad that she decides against it. With no offence intended I say goodbye to both Masen's at a distance. Senior is clearly attempting telepathy because he watches me earnestly when we leave and tries to catch my eye in a nod but Carlisle's horror at such a document is enough to make me doubt the worth of getting it.

That's what's actually going through my mind when I get in my car. The words are balancing there.

 _Are you looking for an excuse to leave?_

Maybe that's why he's angry. He _wanted_ to go. Look at how calm he was... oh I've been so stupid, so fucking foolish-.

When the gentle tap of his knuckles bounces on my window a scream tries to force its way out my lungs. Luckily I'm too hoarse, and breathing deeply while my heart rate decelerates, I allow the cold to breeze against my warm cheeks.

'I think Edward wants to... stay...' His mouth falters on the last word. It's like he's trying to smile but he's forgotten the natural sympathetic sounds of his natural voice. He doesn't elaborate to stay _where_ and I don't ask. I have a feeling we both mean the girlfriend. 'Would you mind...?'

I don't let him finish the sentence. Opening the door I wait for him to slide in. It's too warm again, so I turn off the heaters, rub my puffy face with both palms and exhaustedly breathe though it evolves into a yawn.

'I can drive?'

Trying not to look at him for the guilt of the swollen eye, I ease my foot off the clutch.

'If you'd like?' He offers again and I'm aware that he can't possibly understand that he sounds angry. The offer is genuine and sweet though he says it too tightly, it could almost be sarcastic.

Letting my hand drop from the ignition, I open my door and we switch sides silently. It's so easy to forget he's a better driver than me and even while mad, he drives so smoothly that the engine's purr lulls me to sleep.

The hotel is less than half an hour's drive from our street and the fact that I've slept for three days and still feel like I've been awake throughout, surprises me into a peaceful, not uncomfortable silence.

'Es...?'

Tightening my eyes closed from the disturbance, I nestle further into the seat and let myself relax a little. It's easier to do when I can hear him.

'My lo-urm. Esme?'

No reply.

'I... I don't want to disrupt-... I can carry you? But... but I need your permission?'

The silences where he waits for my reply are even quicker to pass me by than usual and in my irritability, at his tone, at my exhaustion, at our mutual embarrassment...

'Esme?' he asks again.

This time my tongue doesn't withhold a sharp 'yes' and my sleep goes undisturbed until I realise I'm alone.

* * *

I wake up from my bed colder than usual and shivering violently. It's still dark outside, no later than four. I'm dressed, excusing my shoes, and a few blankets have been tucked over me but that doesn't stop me shivering.

Until I realise with horror that my window has been wedged open.

Terror paralyses me for a few moments and while I try and force a scream, my trembling hands grasp the iron frame of the bed and wrenching myself from it, I hurtle myself, with tremendous clatter into Carlisle's room. He'd been lying on his side, sleeping I'm not sure, but at my entrance, jumps up confused to clasp a hold of me.

'Esme? What? What is it?'

The words are squeaks, noiseless shrieks and sinking my dirtied hands into his tender skin, I gasp and cry and shake until the only thing I can be aware of are his arms holding me up.

'Es. You're okay, you're okay...'

But the fear spews forth in rivers from my eyes and shaking violently under him I try disastrously to warn him.

'Carlisle, please,' I choke out, coughing on my own winded heaves while he tries to comfort and soothe and calm all in one and his bruised eye only makes me panic more.

'Babe, slowly. That's it... inhale.'

'The window.' I sob helplessly. 'My window, it's open.'

He doesn't betray his soothing tones and continuing to rub my back, repeating the same even pattern, I tremble harder at his next sentence.

'I know it is, _I_ opened it... Esme?'

My claws on his arms knead tighter and at the release of paralytic terror, I cling to him so tightly I may draw blood.

'I can't breathe.' I wheeze, moving away from him to try and gasp a relief of air that won't come. My lungs crush tighter and though I try to restart my system into action, the shock has stunned me.

'What?'

'I can't _breathe_ , Carlisle.'

'You _can_ breathe. C'mon now, Love. You've just got to remain calm...'

Calm doesn't help because I've worked myself into such a state that I end up flapping my hands at him, breathing in and in and in... and failing to exhale. With a firm hand placed delicately on my shoulder, I watch the panic in his face refresh to work mode as he hands me a paper bag. The pressure of his touch is immobilising.

'Listen to me, breathe deeply. _Even_ breaths, Esme.'

'Uh-huh.' I gasp, holding the bag over my nose and mouth and trying desperately to suffocate myself just to stop the flurry of images from hurtling into my brain. I've squeezed my eyes shut trying to stop water from flowing which means I gasp at the touch of something cold on the back of my jumper.

'Shh-shhh,' he hushes gently, shoulder close to mine as if he's concerned I might fall without it. 'It's the stethoscope.'

I give myself several more breaths before daring to humiliate myself.

'I'm sorry.'

More than sorry but I don't want to think, I just want to hide and scream and cry... I don't know what I want.

'You're okay,' He murmurs, sternly and casting a quick gaze my way, he noisily inhales through his nostrils. 'Slowly, Esme...'

We continue to wait, unmoving, until my breaths become silent. The minutes that tick by must be agonising for him. Only because he hasn't moved an inch. Hovered around me with a stethoscope raised close to me, he turns statuesque. What should be tears on my face dry quickly, hardening on my cheeks so that my mouth is stiff. He doesn't say a word. I don't think any. Just images. His purpled eye, his bitten lip. His _split_ bitten lip. And all those bruises.

It's so hard to tell which ones were made with good intentions. They all have that purple glow of pain. Both of us.

'C-Can... Can you hear over my jumper?'

'Not well.' He grimaces. 'But I wasn't going to ask...'

When I look up, I'm surprised to find he's not shying away from looking directly at me and I'm wondering if this is because the outline of my health has softened his temper. My voice shakes just as bad when I address him again.

'Carlisle?'

'Mm?'

 _Inhale_.

'...Go ahead...'

He nods and with one hand resting gently on my shoulder, he drags the instrument back up my naked spine. He can still feel me tremble, I realise, and trying to offer an apologetic look, I'm surprised to find his eyes tightly closed. As if concentrating.

'Breathe in.'

I do so in another tremble and cough haggardly. He waits for me to settle before sweeping the tool across my back. I try and dodge it. His was well meaning but by closing his eyes he's blind on where and where not to lean. The tenderness parts deepen under his touch.

'And _out_...'

Due to the repeated coughing fits, he asks me to sit through it again and knowing it'll reassure his drumming heart, which could not help but thump unintentionally into my arm, I grant him permission to take my pulse, too. He looks away again, one ear bud in his ear as he squints sorely out the window. I don't realise I'm breathing normally until my shoulders stoop. My eyes are staring at his stubbled jaw.

'How are you feeling?' He asks, carefully. It's like he's daring me to lie.

I'm...

'In pain.' I mouth, looking towards the ceiling, sulkily and I'm mortified by the need to cry. I flinch when he lifts my chin up, but I don't look away either. My eyes read the blurry sounds from his mouth.

'It's my job to fix that.'

The volume is now been ripped soullessly from my tongue; 'And if you can't?'

'I'll try anyway.' He swears and looking from me to at me, he heaves a heavy sigh and shakes his hair from his eyes.

'Carlisle?'

'Yeah?' He replies, wringing his hands delicately.

'..What's _wrong_ with me?'

He doesn't like this question. He moves uncertainly, the shoulders of his jumper shifting like it's a knee-jerk response.

'Exhaustion, malnutrition, dehydration... and probably a cold, I'd say.' His eye twitches, maybe like he's trying to smile again, it'so hard to tell. He's just so... sore.

'You know that's not what I meant...' I mutter quietly and I'm surprised to hear an impatient sigh, it's sharp and uncomfortable and before I can control myself, my emotions flail at his feet. '...Are you...mad...at me?'

'Of course.' He replies quickly. His blonde eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. 'I didn't mean that. I'm not mad, I'm just.. I'm ... _Yes?_...' He looks quickly at me and I think the sudden movement pains him. 'I'm... d-'

 _-evastated_.

'Is that why you didn't look at it?'

'The certificate?' he guesses, again talking quickly. 'No. Not entirely...'

'Then why...?'

'Esme...'

'I'm sorry, I'll stop.'

' _Please..._ never do that again?' It takes for the harsh clearing of his throat for me to notice his eyes brimming with tears. His jaw sharpens like a window edge.

'Do...?'

'You just up and went... _Twice_ and I... Oh God, I thought I'd lost...' Just as he's about to collapse into a gasp, he exhales forcefully and covers his mouth with both hands, locking the sounds inside. He's still shaking his head, eyes clamped shut and when he speaks, his words are muffled by both hands. 'I thought you were _gone_ , Esme.'

The poison in my stomach turns to ice. He... thinks I would go? He assumed I'd... left?! Everything...everything and he thinks I would just _go_?!

'How can you say that when you were leaving me anyway?'

The bitterness and the speed from it hurtling off my tongue shocks him just as much as me. He wasn't expecting this sudden energy, neither was I and we gaze hard at each other, furious with restrained dissimilar passion.

'What?'

'This whole time Carlisle!' And suddenly, I've found my buried voice. 'You were preparing every _day_ to leave-'

'Necessity.' He whines, tilting his head up.

' _Necessity_?! Bullshit I would _never_ have left you like you were going to leave me!'

'I wasn't leaving you, I was trying to protect you!'

'By _leaving_ me,' I cry, furiously and when he reaches out his arms, my own smacks his dramatically away. I hear it, the sound of of his misery, I feel it... and yet I can't let him touch me.

'I was _always_ coming back for you. You _know_ that. Esme, I could not last a single week without-' In his irrational foolhardy naivety, he steps three millimeters closer to me, standing like my equal with head tilted in submission.

'Stay away from me.' I groan, moving back. He drops his hands, but both eyebrows, one still shadowed with pain, are raised; he keeps his feet pointed towards me.

'I'm just trying to explain to you-'

'Don't come near me!' I shout at him.

'My love, I'm nowhere near you?' and though I want to see him step away, though I can recite the detail of hurt in his pained blue eyes, the way his long jumper hangs off of him and the joggers clasping at his legs... though I see and hear the fabric rustle against the wall, I can _see_ it approaching me, too.

'Don't fucking touch me.' I scream, both hands over my ears as I back further away from him. 'You _can't_ touch me.'

'What? Es? I'm not touching you. It's okay, look?'

Two palms up in innocence

'I'll kill you.' I wail and then I lock myself in the bathroom for the next hour, hiding my hyperventilating under the shower.

I'll kill him... It's not a threat. It's a _warning_... I could... kill him...

* * *

I bathe again, scrubbing bristles of soap suds deep into my flesh. My eyes are even sorer, my hands trembling beneath the boiling water and my skin looking like that of a child's monster. I'm blotchy red, purple and yellow all over and though I've tried to soothe my face, it looks more swollen this morning than it has all week. Having realised the state of my overreaction with the boots, I choose very deliberately to dress in softer more aerated clothing. Pyjamas, hoodies, things that will prove I'm not well enough to make decisions yet. Like drive for example and suddenly I can't remember how I got home but I can picture, almost perfectly, my car rammed into a street light.

His bedroom door is open, the light is off and I'm thankful to see he's closed my bedroom window.

'I'm downstairs, Esme.'

'I'm just coming.' I mumble and I'm miserable by the sound of my swollen sinuses distorting my voice.

The kitchen light is on but out of habit, I check first to make sure the front door is locked.

'It's bolted.' He says from behind.

'Huh?'

'You said you were checking to make sure it was locked?' He reminds me and I shudder though the heating is on.

He nods to the table, inviting me to sit without saying so. Very carefully he places a bowl of soup on the cleared space, bread and a very tall glass of ice cold water. I have to check to make sure he's not in a suit because the move is so professional it makes me feel like a guest. It's not a nice feeling.

'Eat?' he pleads.

'Is this because I was sick at the Masen's?' I ask, resigning myself to the chair he's pulled out for me. He frowns, irritating his poor eye, and shakes his head.

'No?'

'I _was_ sick at the Masen's, right?'

'I...don't know.' He answers with a shrug. 'But I doubt it.'

Feeling even too tired to be embarrassed, I look across and find him staring sleepily into a bowl like me. I look down at my soup and scrape my teeth along my lip.

'Carlisle... this is... soup, right?'

'Why do you ask?' he responds, brushing hair from his face and finding my concentration lost solely in the bowl.

'It's just that it's not yet six in the morning and-'

'Yeah, you're eating soup.'

Must everything sound so... broken? Is that my fault? Is he copying my voice?

'Is this a bad time to tell you I already ate?'

'No you didn't.' He answers quickly and by his flinch, I can guess he's irritated by his tone.

I frown like him and non-judgementally take a tentative spoonful of the soup. It goes down easily, very easily and I'm pleased he chose a liquid based diet over shoveling solids down my throat. Perhaps I should be more grateful for my hour long however because it means the soup is warm and settles a groaning I've been ignoring for a while.

'I did.' I argue gently. 'I made toast.'

'And tea?' he finishes. He grimaces a little and chews his breakfast carefully. 'The bread is still in the toaster and the two cups untouched by the sink.'

'But... but I remember...'

'Hey,' he murmurs softly, reaching across and retreating immediately. 'You're just exhausted.'

'I'm not crazy.' I mutter, bitterly.

'You're not crazy.' He confirms and there's a badly timed question of a smile on his thin lips.

This time, I know for a fact I definitely eat something, and there's a witness to attest to it. I drink more though, finding I can't quite quench my first. He pushes his glass towards me and looks surprised when he see's me drain it just as quickly.

'You must be tired.' He murmurs and this time, he can't help but chuckle.

'What makes you say that?' I retort, already filling my third or forth glass with more.

'You never drink milk.'

'I don't like milk.' I remind myself and pausing, I look up to him to confirm that I did actually speak aloud. Did I? I don't remember saying-

'You did.' He chuckles.

...

'I don't understand why I'm so tired, all I've done for three days is sleep.'

He's biting his lip and after drinking my glass of milk, my _second_ glass of milk without complaints, I encourage for his corrections.

'I don't think you did.' He theorises, chewing very carefully and looking under his lashes.

'Great, I _am_ crazy.'

'No, I just think you've told yourself you were asleep when you weren't.'

'Right...' I agree and even though the suggestion is starting to make sense, it's also too confusing to commit to. Out of curiosity, I delicately touch my eyelid and find they're so sore that I must have been squinting since I got out of bed today. Or yesterday. Or today.

'I think that's also why you keep mumbling to yourself... but you do that when you're drunk, too.'

'I do?' I ask.

'Occasionally.'

'How ridiculous...'

He tries to smile but hesitates, dropping his spoon into his bowl and pushing it away from him. This would be the perfect time for a joke. I'd say it. He'd chuckle, shake his head, shake those golden locks out of his eyes and pull me into his arms...

I push away from the table a little.

' _I've_ been eating.' He jokes, defensively.

'I wasn't going to ask...'

It's less like breakfast now... or dinner. It's more like I'm under surveillance. Maybe he's afraid I'll choke or worse, force it out of my system because he pretends to not look at me while counting my every breath. Maybe I should let it be counted... Maybe I should let him touch me... maybe I should just let the poison taint him just as it has me.

'When I was about seven...' He starts ominously and then noticing that he holds my attention, he continues, softly, soothingly, no urgency to his voice, just trusted sound... 'I used to go to the market with one of the chefs. Lovely Italian woman... We used to buy these gorgeous tomatoes, so sweet and so ripe that with one bite, the seeds would shoot out the either side.'

He brings his knee up and locks his hands over it, looking intermittently at the table and my face.

'She used to take me to these local markets and if ever I didn't know where I was, I should head to fountain and she would find me... One day, when I was a little closer to eight... I...got lost. Well... no, I didn't.' He sighs, frowns again and fiddles with the thumb of his left hand. 'Where we lived...it wasn't far from the city, tourists everywhere, and one day... she sat me by the fountain, took my left shoe... and slapped me so hard that I fell into the water.'

I stay very still, watching his face change but it doesn't, he's still almost smiling.

'It hurt, obviously, but being acquainted with the swimming pool, I managed to pull myself out... Only to find that she was gone and being very lost, I obviously burst into tears...'

'Anyone would.' I reply, he nods.

'The markets in Italy open fairly early and the place was swarmed... but no one came near me, the _Polizia_ seemed to think it was a stunt and warned people away... So I didn't move. I waited and didn't move. The only food I had were scraps, I wet myself because I was too terrified that I wouldn't find her... it was horrific... Anyway... On the third night, she came back. She found that I hadn't moved and she sobbed the entire way home.'

' _Three_ nights? What about the care system-'

'When I got home, I ran crying to my father to find he wasn't there. The study was packed up... On the night she'd left me, she presented the shoe to him as evidence of my escape... but he didn't come looking. He _packed...'_ He says it with a sort, as if I should find it funny. _'_ A while later, he was contacted and returned to find me hysterically crying for forgiveness. He was so... _repulsed_ to see me, with my snotted nose and red cheeks...'

He flexes his knuckles on his knee and nods to himself.

'I've had an irrational fear of being left ever since...'

'It's not irrational, Carlisle.'

'Esme-.' He leans across the table and tries not to portray his hurt when I shuffle back. He presents both palms open to me on the table and watches their details with a hard but hurt expression. '... I can't pretend like I have the solution... But... I'm-'

'Devastated, I know.' It leave my mouth far quicker than I wanted but it's out now and I have to stick to it. I have to... The bruises are swelling before me. 'I know you're devastated, I'm sorry-'

' _No_.' The pained expression has little to do with the contortion of his features. 'I'm _dying_ from the reality that I can't fix this for you... That I can't fix whatever it is, and if it's a case of waiting then that's fine... but I need you to know that for as long as you want me... I will never leave you.'

'Don't say that.'

His left hand twitches inwards but he holds it open. 'Why?'

'You can't possibly understand-' I start to say

'Do you want me to leave?'

'What?'

'If you want-.'

'Do you really think I want you to _go_? Carlisle, if you go, I have _nothing_.'

'Tell me how to help-'

'You can't leave-'

'Tell me what to do-'

'I can't-' _I can breathe, I can breathe, I can..._ 'I can't do this...' I try to push the chair away from my legs but in looking at him, I see his open hands are closed together, clasped as tight as his closed eyes. The horror is eating me alive.

'Give me the strength to support-'

'Carlisle- _no_!' He isn't, oh my, he isn't he's... he's... 'I can't do this...'

'And the faith to-'

'I can't do this _without you._ Please. Please, stop... Listen to _me.'_

He opens his eyes, pulls apart his hands and rises from his seat at the table.

'I need you to _listen_ -'

I don't get another word out. At the crumble of his prayer, I crumble likewise. Moving swiftly, he sweeps me into a thunderous hug, wraps his arms securely over me and for the first time this week, has me releasing fresh hot tears into his neck.

* * *

 ** _'What seems particularly striking...is the voice that cries out, a voice that is paradoxically released through the wound'_**

 ** _\- Caruth, The Wound and the Voice._**


End file.
